


The Golden Lions

by TheLadyClegane



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2018-04-12 00:54:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 22
Words: 52,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4459127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLadyClegane/pseuds/TheLadyClegane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an AU where Joanna Lannister doesn't die giving birth to Tyrion, how much would the history of Westeros change? Long fic, begining in Tyrion's birth and following until The War of the Five Kings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jaime

**Author's Note:**

> So, hi! I'm TheLadyClegane, and this is the first chapter of a longfic i intend to write for the next few months. I hope you really enjoy it, and comments and reviews are always welcome.
> 
> This chapter takes places during the birth of Tyrion; by now Joanna already found out about Jaime and Cersei's inappropiate behavior, and moved Cersei to a chamber well away from Jaime.
> 
> And, of course, I do not own any of this characters or the awesome universe of A Song of Ice and Fire. Those belong to George RR Martin. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, hi! I'm The Lady Clegane, and this will be the first chapter of a longfic I intend to write fo the next few months. I hope you really enjoy it!
> 
> And of course, none of this character or places are mine; they belong to the awesome mind of GRRM.

The night was filled with screams.

In the room that Jaime used to share with his twin, the fire was slowly dying, and both kids were wide awake. One of the serving women had tried earlier to take Cersei to her new chambers on the other side of Casterly Rock, and put both children to bed, but as usual, Cersei had sent her away. She was quite mad about not being able to sleep with Jaime now as they always have, and Mother was very firm on the subject. But Lady Joanna was one thing, and the serving women another, and Cersei liked nothing better than playing the grown up. Jaime usually followed her, but now he was way to nervous to play along with her. Their mother had been screaming now for almost two days. They wouldn't allow them to go see her, and Cersei had heard the maester saying something was wrong with the birth. The baby wasn't due for another fortnight, and despite Mother's best efforts, it wouldn't come out.

"It may be mother is having twins again" Jaime suggested, anxious. "Don't be stupid" Cersei said angrily. The mere idea of another set of twins seemed to annoy her. "She had twins before, the Maester would have known if she was having two babies again" The girl took Jaime's hand and kissed him lightly. Their mother always kissed his Lord Father like that when he was under a lot of stress, and Cersei loved to pretend they were like them. "Father won't let anything happen to Mother, Jaime. It's just the stupid baby that won't come out." "I know, I just don't like hearing Mother screaming like that" Jaime said, uneasy. "Well, she shouldn't be screaming" declared Cersei "She's supposed to be a lioness, by birth and by marriage. And a lioness doesn't cry"

"How can you know? You haven't had a baby yet"

"I won't cry when I have a baby" insisted Cersei "I never cry." Another scream cut the air and Jaime covered his ears with his hands, and closed his eyes, until his mother stopped screaming.

His sister stared at him with an odd look in her jade eyes. "Wait a moment" she commanded, as she walked to the door. Jaime tried to follow her, thinking she might be leaving the room "I told you to wait! Sit over there" Jaime obeyed, and watched anxiously his sister opening the door and talking to their guards. "Go fetch a serving woman and tell her to bring us bread, butter and sweetened milk. And we need her to tend the fire as well"

"As you will, little lady" Cersei closed the door before the guard was done talking. "We are going to stay up until Mother is alright" Cersei declared. She sat by Jaime and held his hand again. "Father doesn't like when you cry. He won't be pleased with you."

"I don't want him to be pleased with me" Jaime threw back, wiping his tears "He hasn't even asked the septa to see us since he arrived from King's Landing"

"But when Mother is better, he will surely ask for us. And I don't like you crying. You look stupid."

"I'm not crying!" Jaime yelled at her, freeing himself from her hand. "Yes, you are! You should be like Father! He never cries at all!"

"Just shut up, Cersei!" Jaime said, pushing her off the chair. It drove him mad every time Cersei teased him. His twin stared at him from the myrish carpet, hissing like and angry cat. "I'm telling Mother, you stupid! She always says a man should never strike his lady!"

"Well, she also says a women should never talk back to their lord, and you do it anyway!" Cersei's green eyes shone with anger, pushing her blond curls over a shoulder "Won't you help me up?" she asked. Jaime offered a hand reluctantly, and Cersei stood up and sat again besides him. "You should apologize. I won't tell Mother if you apologize"

"Cersei, please!"

"I'm your lady, and you should apologize!" Jaime stared at her, wanting to push her of the chair again. He heard his mother screaming again and felt tears in his eyes. It was too much.

"I'm sorry I pushed you off the chair"

"My lady"

"My lady" he agreed, and Cersei took his hand again. She wiped his tears and gave him a clumsy kiss in the lips.

"I love you, Jaime. Mother will be alright." there was a knock on the door, and a maid came in with the milk and bread Cersei asked for. "Tend the fire, and leave us" Cersei commanded, standing up. "Yes, my lady" said the serving woman with a little bow. She poured two glasses of milk and knelt by hearth, followed by Cersei's shining eyes "Come, Jaime. Eat with me." He followed his twin through the room, and sat on the little table, facing her. The fire was dancing happily by then, and the maid left the room quietly.

"I never wanted another brother" said Cersei, buttering a piece of bread. She didn't even considered the possibility of a sister, and Jaime didn't mentioned either. Last time he did, Cersei had cried and refused to speak to Jaime until Mother made her. "Why would Mother and Father want another baby?" Jaime though for a few seconds. Before, the idea of having more brothers and sisters to play with made him happy, but now that Mother was in pain, he wasn't so sure he wanted a brother anymore. He found Cersei looking at him, waiting for his answer as she drank sweetened milk.

"Father says we need to continue our legacy." tried Jaime "To continue a legacy, you need children"

"Well, I don't need anyone else. You'll be Lord of the Rock after Father, and I will be your lady."

"No, you won't" blurted Jaime before he could stop himself, remembering what mother had said to him after the maid had seen Jaime and Cersei playing at kissing "I'll be the Lord of Casterly Rock, and my household will be ruled my wife, and you'll marry some lord and go live in his castle. You cannot be my lady" As soon as he was done talking, Jaime knew he had made a mistake. Cersei's eyes shined with anger, and quick as a cat she threw her glass of milk to Jaime. He ducked on time, so the glass wouldn't hit his head, but the milk splashed all over his hair and face. Cersei started laughing, as Jaime felt with anger the milk dripping from his golden hair. His twin's laugher made him even angrier, and without thinking he threw himself at Cersei, landing on the wet carpet. Cersei tried to push him off her kicking, as Jaime grabbed her wrist to stop her from hitting him in the chest. Cersei kept teasing and laughing, freeing his hands and pulling Jaime's face to hers to kiss him. Jaime tried to turn his face but Cersei started tickling him and soon they were breathless with laugher and holding each other, now both dripping milk in the carpet, as Cersei gave him a kiss, and another, and another, and another.

"Don't you ever said that again, Jaime" said Cersei after a few minutes, holding his hand. "You are mine, and I'm always going to be your lady." Jaime nodded, squeezing her hand.

"I won't hit you or push you again. I promise" Cersei turned on her side and hugged Jaime. "I know you won't" said Cersei, yawning. "I love you, Jaime"

"I love you too, Cersei" replayed Jaime, feeling his sister's fingers running through his hair, the way his Mother's always did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There goes the first chapter. I hope you liked it, as it turned out to be more difficult than I expected to write a POV of young Jaime, and his relationship with Cersei, so, don't be so harsh with me. Thank you for reading! Comments and reviews are always welcome!  
> Love, The Lady Clegane


	2. Joanna I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In an AU where Joanna Lannister doesn't die giving birth to Tyrion, how much would the history of Westeros would change? Long fic, begining in Tyrion's birth and following until The War of the Five Kings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own any of this characters or the awesome universe of A Song of Ice and Fire. Those belong to the genious mind of George RR Martin.

She had never felt more tired in her entire life.

In her bloody featherbed, Joanna struggled to find enough strength to even breath. Her body felt as if every bone had been broken, so painful she couldn't bring herself to sleep, despite the fact that she was dying of exhaustion.

_"No,”_  she thought _"I'm dying in childbirth."_

She could hear the maester and the midwives whispering and wandering around her dark chambers, and the smell of blood was heavy in the air making her nauseous.  _Tywin..._ Her head felt dizzy and everything about the last two days was a painful blur, but she could tell her Lord Husband wasn't in the room. The servants would never dare to gossip and whisper between them when Tywin was present.  _My lord, where are you?_

  
When she gave birth to her beautiful perfect twins, Tywin stuck by her side until she heard Cersei's strong lungs, followed almost instantly by Jaime's. That time she had been taken to bed from dawn until the hour of the wolf, but by the end she hadn't been near this tired, or felt half the pain she was feeling now. Her chambers had been filled with her family, not maesters and midwives, and even the king had sent a raven congratulating his Hand, in his own twisted way.  
She had seen Tywin smile then, as she took her golden newborns into her arms. Her own good sister and dear cousin, Genna, told her that was the second time she had ever seen Tywin smiling. "The first time was, of course, was in the Sept of Baelor" said Genna, playing with Jaime's tiny feet, as Joanna fed Cersei.  "But I don't need to remind you of your own wedding.”

  
She felt a sharp pain in her belly, and whimpered. The voices stopped suddenly, and Joanna heard footsteps rushing to her side.  
"Tywin?"  
"Creylen, my lady,” the maester's voice sounded concerned. He touched her forehead with the back of his hand, and hurried to hold her wrist with two bony fingers. "We need to give you milk of the poppy, and break the fever as fast as possible.” The maester gave instructions to the maids and proceeded to lightly touch her belly.  Joanna couldn't help but whimper again. Creylen murmured something to himself and turned to grab some milk of the poppy.  
"Where is my lord husband?" Joanna managed to ask as the maester poured a cup. "He will come back soon, my lady.” Creylen held the cup against Joanna's lips, and urged her to drink. "Drink, my lady. When you wake up, Lord Tywin will be here."  Before losing herself in sleeps again, Joanna realized she didn't ask about the baby.

The voices were whispering again.  
"Too big, and with a shining evil eye..."  
"Is it true what they say? About the tail?"  
"I heard he has claws.”  
"You'd be wise to hold your tongue. Haven't you heard of Payne?"  
"It wasn't m'lord who had his tongue torn, it was the king who did it.”  
"Quiet, the lot of you!" some woman's voice warned. "You'll disturb the lady.”  
"The lady? The lady is long dying.”

Joanna heard the doors open and close, and the hurried steps across the myrish carpet. Even though she felt stronger, she couldn't make out the words the servants were saying. The world was dark, and nothing existed but the little cup pressed to her lips, and bitter taste on her tongue.

She was back in the Red Keep busy with her needlework as the rest of the ladies chatted happily, only she did not have time to chat. She needed to finish her stitches, a gift for her lord husband, and for some reason she needed to finish it as quickly as she could. She was making, of course, a golden Lannister lion, but in her hurry somehow her usually perfect stitches ended up crooked. Her lion was oddly shaped, making him look more like a gargoyle, and even the golden thread she was using looked pale and wrong. She tried to fix it before some of the ladies saw it and made fun of her, the way they did before she married her dear Tywin, but as much as she tried, the lion still looked malformed.  
"A monster" some voice said, and Joanna jumped, startled. She turned her head, but could not see who was talking.  
"Lord Tywin won't be please. He is so proud..." said another voice, hiding in the dark.  
"A punishment, they say,” said a man's voice, and clearly Joanna saw the rotting face of Lord Roger Reyne, dripping water. "A punishment from the gods, for his arrogance.”  
"It's an omen" said Lady Ellyn Tarbeck, creeping closer to Joanna. "A long winter, famine, and tragedy.”  
"A pity, the ban on the right of the first night,” said King Aerys, stinking of wine, his pale fingers pulling her laces and tearing her clothes, as everyone around them made bawdy jokes. Joanna tried to cover her breasts with her hands, but now Lady Ellyn and Lord Roger were ripping her clothes as well, their long fingernails slashing at her big round belly.  
"Don't touch me!" screamed Joanna, trying to push them away from her.  
"My lady,” mocked Lord Roger, pinching her breasts.  
"My husband will kill you, he will have your heads!" she heard Aerys’ mad laugher, and she kept screaming and kicking.  
"My lady!"  
"Do not touch me!"  
"My lady, it's Creylen!"

  
Joanna opened her eyes, her heart beating hard against her chest. The gray shape of the maester appeared in front of her, a worried look on his face. Dark bags under his eyes marked his lack of sleep, and he seemed somehow older than she remembered.  
"Did you have a nightmare, my lady?" he asked, staring at her with concern. Joanna looked around and found her chamber empty but for the maester, and all the curtains closed.  
"A bad dream,” she agreed trying to calm herself.  _They cannot hurt you. The king is far away, and Tywin killed Lord Roger and Lady Ellyn._  Creylen touched her forehead, and her cheeks.  
"The fever has broken at last,” he said, and Joanna couldn't help but notice how relieved he looked. "I'll send a word to the kitchens to bring you some bread and fruit and some watered wine to settle your belly..."  
"How long has it been?" asked Joanna before the maester reached the door.  "How many days did I sleep?" He stopped and turned to face her again.  
"You slept for four days, my lady,” said Creylen, rubbing his hands.  "I thought it would be better to help you regain your strength. The milk of the poppy…”  


"Was it a boy or a girl?" asked Joanna before she could stop herself. She knew she should be praying to the mother for a boy in case, Gods forbid, something happened to Jaime, but deep in her heart Joanna prayed for a girl. It would have been a good thing to have a little girl. Cersei needs a sister to sweeten her ways and to play with her. Maybe a baby sister would have kept her apart from Jaime.  
"A boy, my lady,” replayed the maester with a thin voice, "but he will not live long.”  That stopped Joanna's heart for a second. She had assumed, in a moment between the birth and her dreams, that her baby was nothing more than a stillborn.  _But if he is alive..._  Creylen had a sad and nervous look in his eyes, as if he had not expected to be the one to break the news to her.  _He will not live long..._ Joanna felt tears rushing to her eyes. She knew something was wrong with the birth, she had feared that much while she struggled to push, and push, and push with no result. So much pain, so much time... Eight years had been so much time, even after the twins. And all, for nothing.  _At least it was a boy. Tywin wanted another son, and the gods know i tried to give him one._ _My poor baby..._

  
"Has Tywin named him yet?" she asked, trying to hide her pain. Yet again, the maester seemed quite nervous, and kept silent a few seconds before he finally found his tongue.  
"Lord Tywin... He did not mention... He has been so worried about you, my lady..."  _Then, where is he? Why isn't he by my side, sharing my pain?_  "I do not think he had the time to think anything else..." Joanna nodded, and blinked away the tears.  
"Let me hold him,” commanded Joanna. "I want to hold him, at least once, before the Mother takes him from my arms and into her mercy." Again, the maester started rubbing his hands and avoided Joanna's eyes, opening and closing his mouth until he managed to speak.  
"It would only make things worse, my lady.”  Something in the maester's voice made Joanna feel uneasy. "Best to let the boy be, my lady. It will be harder for you once you hold him.”  
"Bring me my boy, Creylen." Joanna felt her heart thumping against her chest again. Something was amiss. She could see the maester struggling with himself until he gave up. "As you say, my lady." He walked towards the door, and gave instructions in a low voice.

  
"Help me sit,” commanded Joanna, as one of the maids went looking for the wet nurse to bring her her son. Creylen hurried to her side with one of the guards, and gently helped her to sit between her pillows. It hurt a little, but not near as much as it had before.  _I’ll have more children._ _Tywin and I are still young. We could still have two or three more children. Golden babies, with eyes as green as emeralds to continue our legacy and become knights, and lords and ladies..._  
The door opened once again, and the wet nurse entered the room, holding in her arms what it looked like a little bundle of blankets. The maester came walking behind her, and sat in a chair next to Joanna's bed.  
"My lady,” she said in a low voice, as if not to disturb her. Joanna nodded, and the wet nurse carefully placed the baby in her arms, walking away a few steps respectfully.

  
Joanna watched her baby sleeping softly, covered with silken blankets. His hair was thin and so blond it looked white.  He looked so small, even for a newborn, and so frail... but something was different. Joanna unwrapped the blankets as gently as she could, trying not to wake him... and found herself looking at two malformed, short legs, and realized how oddly big his head looked compared to his body.  It was then that Joanna felt her heart sink.  
"A dwarf,” she said in a thin voice. The maester nodded silently, and suddenly Joanna understood why Tywin wasn’t by her side.  
_"A punishment from the gods, for his arrogance,”_ whispered Lord Roger Reyne in her ear.  " _A monster."_   The baby started crying and the wet nurse rushed to her, but Joanna raised a hand and she stopped.  
"I'll feed him myself,” she said, oddly calm. The wet nurse nodded, and helped her with her nightgown, and soon the baby was sucking at her breast.  
"Send a word to my lord husband, Creylen. Tell him I asked to see him, and bring me something to break my fast,” she commanded as she watched her little baby sucking hungrily. “Tell him he has a new son, and his name will be Tyrion of House Lannister,” she finished as her son watched her with his little mismatched eyes.  


_"A black eye,”_ she thought, caressing his head. _"A black eye, and a green Lannister eye."_


	3. Joanna II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In an AU where Joanna Lannister doesn't die giving birth to Tyrion, how much would the history of Westeros would change? Long fic, begining in Tyrion's birth and following until The War of the Five Kings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains some sexual unresolved tension. 
> 
> I do not own any of this characters or the awesome universe of A Song of Ice and Fire. Those belong to George RR Martin.

* * *

 

 

_"The Mother gives the gift of life,_ _and watches over every wife._   _Her gentle smile ends all strife,_ _and she loves her little children..."_

Joanna hummed softly following Jaime's voice as he sang to his baby brother. She was sitting in a cushioned chair holding baby Tyrion in her arms. Joanna had taken an earring off, and was holding it above Tyrion's head, teasing. Her baby was following the emerald earring, with his little mismatched eyes full of wonder, trying to lift a tiny hand to grab it.

"He's like a kitten playing,” declared Jaime once he finished his song. He was standing besides Joanna's chair, watching his baby brother play.  ”He always try to grab whatever is close to him."

"That's what babies do,” agreed Joanna, putting her earring back on. "They have to learn how to hold things before he can learn how to walk and talk."

"How long will it be before he can walk?" asked Jaime, curious.

"Well, you and Cersei started to walk after your first name day,” she said, trying to remember. "You walked first, but Cersei learned how to talk faster. The maester says Tyrion may learn a little slower.”

"Because he's a...?" Jaime fell silent, ashamed.

"Because he's different,” completed Joanna running her finger through Jaime's golden hair. He was a sweet boy, and Joanna knew he meant no harm.  "Do you want to hold him?" she asked, and Jaime's eyes widened.

"Could I?"

"He's your baby brother. You can hold him if you can.” Joanna pointed to the chair next to her and Jaime sat. She stood up and placed the baby in his arms. "Put your arm behind his head, and keep him close with your hands.” Jaime did as he was told, holding his brother rather awkwardly.

"Like this?" asked Jaime, uncertain.

"Just like that, my little lion,” said Joanna, smiling. Jaime smiled back, and studied his brother with amazed eyes.

"He's really small,” said Jaime with wonder, touching the baby's hair.

"He will always be small,” said Joanna. "And people will try to mock him."

"Father won't let them,” replayed Jaime instantly, meeting his mother's eyes. "Father doesn’t like when people try to mock us. He would be angry, and kill them."  _That's what I'm afraid of, my sweet boy._

"But your father won't always be close to Tyrion,” continued Joanna, caressing her baby's hair. "And that is why you have to protect him, Jaime."

"Me?"

"He's your baby brother, my love. Even if he wasn't so small, you would have to protect him. You will always be older, and wiser.  Ser Benedict tells me you will be a great knight one day,” she added, and Jaime smiled, pleased with himself. "And what is the most important rule of all the great knights?"

"To protect those who cannot protect themselves,” he answered quickly.

"You see, my love?" Joanna kissed the child's forehead. "You will be his strong brother, and take care of him whenever me or Father aren't close.”

"I will,” promised Jaime as solemnly as only an eight year old could be.  "I won't let them hurt Tyrion, and I will teach him how to be a knight,” he added. "Could he be my squire when he grows older? Like Ser Duncan The Tall, and King Aegon?" 

Joanna was trying to find an answer to that, when the door opened, and one of the guards announced Lord Tywin.  Joanna raised her head, and met the eyes of her Lord husband.

Lord Tywin was still in his red travel cloak, dusty from the road. A few days ago, he left with his brother Kevan to Lannisport, to attend some complication with a trading cog, from the Arbor, whose captain tried to cheat a merchant. It was the kind of situation Tywin usually would not bother himself with, leaving it to Kevan or Tygett, but Joanna believed he was trying to avoid being present when, according to him, Tyrion finally died.

"My Lord,” said Joanna, making a little bow. Jaime seemed to be in conflict with himself, not being able to stand up to meet his father while holding Tyrion. He finally resolve to stay sitting down.

"Father,” he said with a thin voice.

"My lady,” said Tywin, and then turned to his son.  "Jaime, shouldn't you be in the practice yard with Ser Benedict?" he asked in a soft voice. The boy opened and closed his mouth, and his eyes went from his father to his mother pleading for help.

"I asked Ser Benedict to spare Jaime from his training today,” said Joanna, taking Tyrion from his brother's arms.  Jaime stood up at once. Actually, she had found Jaime sneaking into her chambers to meet the baby while she was in the privy, but she did not think Tywin would take it lightly if he found out his son had missed his training by hiding in his mother's room. "I wanted Jaime to spend some time with me and his brother. He wanted to meet Tyrion.”

"So, instead of spending his morning training with the sword, he chose to stay with his mother holding babies.” Jaime's eyes fell to the floor, embarrassed. Tywin turned and called for the wet nurse. "I will speak with you later, Jaime."

"Yes, Father,” said the boy with a weak voice, as the woman entered the room.

"Take Jaime and the child back to the nursery,” her husband ordered in a soft voice. "And send some buttered bread and fruit.”

"Tyrion stays with me,” said Joanna before the wet nurse took the baby. The woman gave Tywin a furtive look before nodding and taking Jaime's hand. Tywin's pale eyes met Joanna's who held her baby closer to herself.

"You'll make a weakling of my son,” said Tywin once Jaime and the wet nurse left the room. He sat in the chair where Jaime was sitting a few minutes ago, as Joanna placed Tyrion in the crib beside her bed.

"There is nothing wrong about him wanting to meet his brother,” replied Joanna, sitting next to her husband. Tywin stared at her for a few seconds.

“There is, if it means he is missing his daily training, Joanna,” insisted Tywin.  "He will be Lord of Casterly Rock someday, and he should be learning how to fight, the history and arms of the kingdoms, and High Valyrian at the maester's knee. Certainly, not how to hold and sing to a baby.” Joanna flattened her skirts, and said nothing. Her husband took that for agreement, and continued talking. "I see you brought the crib into your chambers.”

"The nursery is too far from my chambers,” replied Joanna, calmly. "And I like to feed Tyrion myself.”

"Doesn't he wakes you at night?" Tywin inquired, as a maid entered the room with a golden tray in her hands.

"He does,” agreed Joanna, "but the wet nurse helps me when he soils himself, or whenever I grow tired." Joanna had almost fully recovered her strength in the past few fortnights, but she still tired easily. She took a fig and bit it, as the woman poured some watered wine for them. Tywin dismissed the maid with a wave of his hand, and drank from his cup. As soon as the woman left the room, he reached for Joanna's hand.

"My lady, this is folly,” he told her, keeping his voice down. "Creylen said the baby would not live long. You will only make it worse for yourself.” Joanna stared at him, feeling sad and angry at the same time. Tywin's insistence on the baby's passing annoyed her, even if his intentions were good. "Keeping him close to you, feeding him yourself..." He fell silent, as if choosing his words carefully. "Creylen told me it is near to impossible for you to get with child again, and that he already told you about it.” Joanna felt the tears rushing to her eyes, and fought them back. She knew Creylen would have to tell her husband, eventually, but she had hoped that the maester's fear of Lord Tywin would keep him silent for at least a few weeks. "We'll still have Jaime and Cersei, my lady,” he continued, giving a little squeeze to his wife's hand.

"Tyrion won't die,” Joanna said before she could help herself, freeing her hand from Tywin’s. "When Tyrion was born, Creylen said he would not live long,” she added, “but now even he admits Tyrion is growing stronger, and less likely to die with each passing day.” She rose from the chair and stood in front of her husband. “We have two sons and one daughter, my lord. Three children, not two." Tywin's gaze was heavy on her eyes, and Joanna felt a little scared. She had never talked like that to her husband, and she wasn't sure if he would be angry with her.

"Joanna..." His tone gave her pause. Tywin only called her by her name when they were alone, or when he was feeling vulnerable or insecure in some way. She met her husband's worried eyes, and felt her love for her husband filling her. She leaned forward and kissed her lord husband full on the lips. Tywin put his hands on her waist, and pulled her to his lap. Joanna's fingers ran through his hair, feeling his hands caressing her golden curls and her cheeks. She felt the faint taste of the wine on his lips, and his breath growing faster.  _"Too long,”_  she thought. _"It has been too long”._  She could feel his desire through her skirts, but she knew he would not try to take her there. Tywin only bedded her when he came to her chambers in the night. Besides, Tyrion was in his crib.

He finally broke the contact, and kissed her hand. Joanna held him tight, humming softly as she kissed his forehead.

There was a knock on the door, and Joanna jumped from her husband’s lap. Tywin pointed the chair to her, as he turned his head towards the door. Joanna sat down as a guard opened the door.

"Excuse me, m'lord" said the man, clearly uncomfortable, and Joanna realized embarrassed her cheeks must be flushed and her hair messed up, giving her away. "Ser Kevan asked for you, m'lord. He's at the Golden Gallery.” Tywin nodded and dismissed the guard. He rose from the chair, and turned to face Joanna.

"I will see you tonight, my lady,” said Tywin, kissing his wife's cheek. Joanna nodded quietly as she saw him leaving the room.

The noise the closing door made woke up Tyrion, who started crying right away. Joanna walked to the crib, and held her little baby in her arms, trying to calm him down. The wet nurse entered to the room quickly to help Joanna.

"Hush, my love,” she whispered. "I'll calm him down myself,” she said to the woman who nodded and took a step back.  "Tonight he'll sleep with you in the nursery,” she commanded, caressing the baby's head.

"Yes, my lady.”

"And bring me some hot water for a bath. Tonight I shall dine with my lord husband."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and reviews are appreciated!  
> Love, The Lady Clegane


	4. Jaime II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In an AU where Joanna Lannister doesn't die giving birth to Tyrion, how much would the history of Westeros would change? Long fic, begining in Tyrion's birth and following until The War of the Five Kings.

 

* * *

 

 

The clash of swords rang sweetly in Jaime's ears, as he lifted his shield arm to block Addam's wooden sword. At the end of the day, his shoulders always ached, and he felt sore where Addam had managed to hit him, but he liked nothing better than dancing in the practice yard. Some other men and older boys were training as well, and theirs were the sharp sound of steel against steel; until he was older, Jaime would have to settle with wooden swords. He felt the salty breeze of the Sunset Sea in his face, and heard one of the men betting two coppers to him.  
"Use your shild, Marbrand!" yelled Ser Benedict, as Jaime drove his sword to Addam's thighs. The boy grunted, and went left, taking Jaime for surprise for one second. Jaime's counter-thrust kept the boy's sword away from him, and one, two, three times he stopped Addam's sword, until finally Jaime found an opportunity and sent him to the dusty ground.  
The men watching their training cheered and whistled, as Jaime offered a hand to Addam, to help him to find his feet. He saw on the corner of his eyes a tall man paying two coppers to one of the men-at-arms.  
"Well done, boys!" yelled Ser Benedict from across the yard, as two other boys began to fight. They looked oddly mismatched, compared to the rest of the boys in the practice yard. One of them was Gerion Broom, the nephew of Ser Benedict; his opponent was a boy Jaime did not know, but he was musculed as a bull, and a foot and a half taller than Gerion. Gerion himself looked quite anxious.  
"Who's that?" asked Addam, amazed, as they began to dance. Gerion was moving quickly, trying his best to hit his opponent, who seemed a little slow.  
"He's the eldest son of Ser Fendor Clegane" said one of the men-at-arms "Ten years old, and stronger than most grown men. His father just sent him to the Rock, no doubt hoping he'll catch His Lordship's eye" Gerion was moving around the boy, who was struggling to keep him on his sight "I heard of him before, but never saw him with my own eyes" Clegane seemed to be tired of Gerion's dance. He raised his arm and drove his sword to Gerion. The boy tried to block his bow, but the sword crashed against his arm with a sickening crunch. Gerion fell against the dirt with a scream of pain, and Jaime watched fascinated, as the men rushed to help him. It appeared that Clegane's blow had broken the boy's arm. Ser Benedict ran to the boy, and gave order to the men-at-arm to help him stand. Soon, two of the men helped the boy back into the castle, most likely to ask the maester to fix him.  
"Remind me to never dance against that one" said Addam quietly, as they saw Clegane making his way back to the bench.  
"Why did Ser Benedict made Gerion face Clegane? He is way too big for him" said Jaime, in a low voice.  
"Gerion is three years older than Clegane, almost a man grown, and castle-raised besides" said Ser Benedict behind them, and both Jaime and Addam jumped. "While Clegane has always lived in a little keep, with no proper master-at-arms of any sort. I thought that would be enough to make a fair match, but it seems that Clegane has a natural talent for violence." he fell silent for a few seconds, staring at the boy. Clegane's eyes were fixed on the ground, making figures in the dirt with the wooden sword. He looked pretty bored, but no shade of regret or anguish crossed his face in any moment. Something about him made Jaime uneasy."Is past time you left, lads" said Ser Benedict finally. "I will see you in the morrow."  
Jaime and Addam nodded, and began to make their way to the castle, as they heard the master-at-arms voice yelling instructions to the younger boys.  
"Well fought" said Jaime, as the other boy shaked the dust off his copper hair.  
"I thought I had you this time" said Addam bitterly, kicking a rock.  
"Your left took me unawares" conceded Jaime. "You hardly ever go left"  
"It was some Westerling boy who pointed that out to me" explained Addam "I'll try harder next time." He stopped to look the archers' training yard, where they were shooting arrows to straw knights. Jaime waited a few seconds and hurried him. He misliked archers; there was no way of having a fair fight with them, and besides, their training bored him. Addam waved at one of his cousins of the lesser branches of House Marbrand, and followed Jaime. They crossed the portcullis, and the sounds of the fighting soon faded away.  
They walked into the kitchen, where the serving women and some of the men-at-arms were gossiping shamelessly.  
"Little lord" said Diane, the cook. She was an old grumpy woman, who yelled a lot and used to threaten everyone with a wooden spoon, but Jaime knew that deep down she had a gentle heart. Everytime he walked through the kitches with Addam, once they were done with their training, she gave them a cakes and sweets. This time she gave them honeyed biscuits. "Is it true?" she asked, as she put the biscuits in Jaime's and Addam's hands."Did Fendor's boy broke young Gerion's arm?" Jaime nodded, his mouth to full to answer. He realized the women and men had grown quiet, listening carefully "Well, I guess Ser Benedict didn't like that one bit. After all, Gerion is of his own blood. He has been training him since he was old enough to walk." she snorted "Now I would like to see him train with a broken arm. He could end up lame, the poor lad. But what madness took on Ser Benedict, to make his nephew face that boy?"  
"He is only ten" said Marbrand, confident "And Gerion is three-and-ten. Ser Benedict thought that would be enough to make a fair match" the old woman snorted louder.  
"It was pride, see what I tell you. He puts so much faith in his lad. And Fendor's son? What did you make of him?"  
"Seems like a big brute to me" said Addam "I have never heard about the Cleganes before"  
"The Cleganes have only been landed knights for a couple generations" informed Jaime, who had finally managed to finish his biscuit "The first Clegane used to be kennelmaster, but he saved my grandsire from a lioness once, so he rewarded him with lands"  
"Old Greg lost a leg fighting the lioness" said Diane "That, and three hounds. And Lord Tytos took Fendor as squire. I remember him, as young as you, little lord. He used to come here looking for sweets as well" Suddenly, she turned his back to Jaime and hit with her wooden spoon one of the kitchen wenches. "Get back to work, you lazy girl!" She yelled, and soon everyone was at work again. "Take one more of those, before you leave" she said to Addam and Jaime. They smiled, and walked out of the kitchens, hearing Diane cursing and yelling at her girls.  
"Do you think Gerion will be alright?" asked Addam, taking a bite of his second biscuit.  
"Maester Creylen will fix him" said Jaime "He has never failed before."  
"Speaking of Maester Creylen" continued Addam, as they climbed the infinite steps that led to their chambers "How fares your Lady Mother?"  
"She's better" said Jaime "Tyrion keeps her busy"  
"So, is it true?" they reached their chambers' floor, and begun to walk on the hall "He will live?"  
"He will" confirmed Jaime, confident. "Maester Creylen said he's out of danger" just as they were reaching their chamber's door, one of the guards intercepted Jaime.  
"Excuse me, little lord" said the man "Lord Tywin left instructions to take you to his presence as soon as you were done training." Jaime felt a knot in his belly.  
"I'll see you on the morrow" said Addam, and Jaime followed the guard to his father's chambers.  
He walked right in front of his Lady Mother's door. Jaime could hear Tyrion crying, and his mother's voice. She was singing to him, trying to sooth him. He felt the knot in his belly tightening. He hadn't meant to miss his training; he only wanted to meet his little brother, but when his Mother asked him to sing to the baby, he forgot about Ser Benedict and Addam.  
Since Tyrion was born, Jaime and Cersei hadn't been allowed to see the baby, or their Lady Mother. Cersei told him Mother was still weak, and she heard one of her guards saying Maester Creylen was so determinated to save their Mother, he had spendt most of his days besides her bed, leeching her and making poultices to keep her fever at bay. As for ther baby, everyone had something different to say. A dwarf, monster, misshaped, with claws and tail and fangs. Nobody was allowed to see him, besides from the wetnurse and Maester Creylen himself; Cersei heard a serving woman saying he would surely die soon, as the gods would never allow monsters to live long on this world. Even after Mother woke up, and asked for Jaime and Cersei, there was still no signs of the baby. His cries could be heard in Cersei's chambers, which of course made her mad, but Jaime's chambers were too far away to hear anything. Jaime's curiosity grew with each passing day, until he finally gathered enough courage to sneak into his Mother's room. What he found there was not what he expected. His brother's only unusual trait was his black eye; he was a small baby with a head maybe a little too large for his body. That was how his Mother had found him; peeping over his little brother's craddle, trying to touch the baby's hair.  
And now Father was displeased with him, and nothing terrified Jaime more than his father's lessons. The worst one was two years ago, when the maester told Lord Tywin that Jaime could not learn his letters. He could not remember quite clearly why it had been so challenging for him to learn how to read and write, but what he did remember was his Lord Father solution. Lord Tywin began to teach Jaime himself, sitting besides him from dawn until noon, until Jaime finally learned his letters. He remembered feeling anguished day after day, besides being bored to death, and begging Father to let him go, but Lord Tywin would not yield. That was when he had cried, and knew for real what was like to face Lord Tywin's anger. After the worst scolding he ever knew, Lord Tywin threatened to take Jaime with him to King's Landing, to continue his lessons, if he hadn't learn his letters by the time the king required Father's presence in the Crownlands. The risk of being parted from Cersei was all the incentive Jaime needed, and he was able to stay at the Rock when his father left. Now, even if Father was most of his time away at King's Landing, everytime he took the Goldroad Jaime begun to feel anxious.  
They were finally at his father's door, and the guard knocked and annouced Jaime. He heard the noise of chairs moving, and his uncle Kevan appeared at the door.  
"Come inside, child" he said, putting his hand in Jaime's shoulder "I was just leaving"  
"Thank you, uncle" said Jaime, before entering the room.  
His Father's chambers were huge; Addam once said Lord Tywin's chambers at Casterly Rock were bigger than Ashemark's great hall. Myrish carpets, tapestries and curtains were all different shades of red, most of them with lions or golden threads. Cersei loved the fierce red and golden splendor of the rooms, but Jaime thought it made them look as if they were afire.  
He found his father sitting on his great chair, signing documents. His table was full of letters and broken seals of a hundred colors, from all the great houses of the Seven Kingdoms. Whenever Lord Tywin was at Casterly Rock, the ravens followed; as Hand of the King, lords and knights often wrote to him, asking him favors, justice or inviting him to tourneys and weddings. He sealed the letter he was writting, and met Jaime's eyes.  
"Father" greeted Jaime. Lord Tywin pointed the chair in front of him, and Jaime went to sit as fast as he could.  
"You have crumps in your clothes" said his father, and Jaime felt his face redden "Have you been in the kitchens again?"  
"Addam and I walked throught the kitchens when we were done with the training" he confessed.  
"You are too fond of sweets" said Lord Tywin "Sweets make you soft, like a woman, and keeps you from training properly" He stared at him with his pale green eyes, waiting a response. Jaime struggled to find his tongue, but did not know what to say to that. "You are my son and heir, Jaime. Some day, you will be Lord of Casterly Rock, and rule the western lords and the smallfolk. If they sense the faintest smell of weakness, they will not respect you" continued Father "And you will waste your days dealing with defiant lords and rebellions.What do you think the petty lords will make of you, if they knew you spend your time eating sweets and singing to babies? It was my mistake to leave women to raise you while I was away. Your mother might have a soft woman's heart, Jaime, but I told Kevan to stay here, at the Rock, to help her raise you." Jaime was making his best effort not to cry. It wasn't that bad; uncle Kevan have always been good to him, and he had feared for a moment that his father's intentions would be to take him to King's Landing. He wouldn't have to leave Cersei and Casterly Rock. "Leave to Cersei the needlework and the womanly arts, Jaime. She is the one who is supposed to be singing to babies, not you. Is that understood?"  
"Yes, Father" aswered Jaime, his eyes fixed on the myrish carpet. He felt his father's gaze on him a few more seconds, before he finally spoke.  
"You have my leave to go"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, kudos and reviews are always welcome!


	5. Joanna III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In an AU where Joanna Lannister doesn't die giving birth to Tyrion, how much would the history of Westeros would change? Long fic, begining in Tyrion's birth and following until The War of the Five Kings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, or any of the characters. Those belong to the amazing George RR Martin.

Joanna hummed a lullaby to her son, walking around her bedchamber.  
A fortnight had come and went by, and then another, and another, and another.  
Even though Creylen could not bring himself to say for certain, little Tyrion was getting stronger every day, and now Joanna was sure he wasn't going to die. He nursed greedily, and it seemed that only Joanna's arms calmed him. Tyrion warmed her heart in a way not even her golden twins could; he was hers, and hers alone, while Cersei and Jaime were mostly Tywin's, despite her best efforts. Jaime was a sweet lad, and she loved him dearly, but Tywin's hand was in every single aspect of his life and education, and Cersei... Cersei was beautiful, and prideful as her father, but too reckless and fierce, desperatly eager to earn Tywin's attention and approval. She loved her daughter, but sometimes she did things that unnerved Joanna. Even at eight, Cersei gave her more headaches than she ever knew. " _A sister would have been of help_ " thought Joanna, sadly " _A sister I could never give to her."_  
In the last few years, she had grown anxious to give Tywin more sons. Eight years had been way too long, but her Lord Husband was away most of the time, so it could not be helped. She never doubted her own womb, not after Cersei and Jaime, and the Lannisters were a big and fertil family. She used to pity those who could not bring their own wombs to quicken, as poor Queen Rhaella, whose miscarriages and stillborns had been the bane of the Seven Kingdoms; now that she knew for sure she would not be able to give Tywin more heirs, a different sentiment regarding the queen started to fill her, something more alike to empathy. Being Aerys' sister and wife, Rhaella's life in the Red Keep must have been pretty much like one of the seven hells the septons talked about. And even if Rhaella held some ill feeling torwards Joanna, she could not bring herself to resent her. Actually, she felt relieved to have a royal order to leave King's Landing at once, being dismissed as lady in waiting. Joanna did her best to keep Tywin ignorant of Aerys' humilliations and constant harassing, but she did not know how much longer she would have been able to keep it that way. And Tywin was not the kind of man to suffer slights on his honor.  
_Just ask Lady Ellyn and Lord Roger._  
She shook her head, trying to keep the Reynes and the Tarbecks out of his mind.  
_It's no good to linger in things better forgotten_.  
Althought it seemed to Joanna that Tywin did not want it to go forgoten. Before winter came, in one of her husbands visits, some singer came with a lute, asking to play for them a song meant to please his husband. The Rains of Castamere, the song was called.  
Joanna found the lyrics deeply disturbing and dark, and waited uncomfortable for the song to end. Many on the hall seemed to share her thoughts, as all the highborn lords of the Westerlands had ties with one house or another, but after Lord Tywin gave five golden dragons to the bard, every single one of them praised him and his song. Genna told her that now in every castle where Tywin was guest, the song was played during the feasts, to please him. It unnerved Joanna to think that a song about death and revenge was now Lord Tywin's himn.  
"And it will be his himn until the Wall falls" Genna told her "Unless his stops giving gold to every fool who happens to play the song to him. Traitors or not, fealty is better won by forgiveness, not blood. And the lords will not forget, good-sister." Genna even went as far as speaking her mind to her brother. Her sharp tongue won her a year in The Twins, with her Lord Husband's family. It saddened her to lose Genna, specially because her little exile from the Westerlands happened during Joanna's pregnancy. All the other highborn women in Casterly Rock were young girls, as little Dorna Swift, former Tywin's hostage and now Kevan's wife, or Darlessa Marbrand, Tygett's own betrothed. Her only real companion had always been her dear cousin Genna, but Joanna knew it was no good to try and change Tywin's mind; she would have better luck hatching a dragon.  
Instead, she had tried to keep herself busy knitting and making clothes for her new baby. She had hoped Cersei would take interest, as Joanna herself when her Lady Mother was with child, but it was no good. Cersei did not seem to want a new brother or sister, and besides, she was helpless with her needlework. Septa Jeyne told Joanna afterwards, that no matter what she did, Cersei's stitches were always crooked. "Not for lack of skill, begging your pardon, Lady Joanna" the septa had told her "The child does not care for any of the womanly arts."  
And Joanna felt it was her fault, in some way. She left her twins in the hands of septas, master-at-arms and maesters, when she should have taken more care in their education. Maybe that way, the incident the serving woman had witnessed would not have happened. As absurd as it was, she could not bring herself to believe that the woman was lying, and every doubt she could have vanished as soon as she saw Jaime's guilty face. After a harsh talk to both children,she had sent the woman away with a few silver for her silence, moved Cersei to a chamber closer to hers, and put a couple of guard on her door. She asked the maester to give the children their lessons separately, and commanded the septa to keep an eye on Cersei. Now, she could only hope her twins were still young enough to forget the incident. When Tywin asked her about the changes, she claimed the twins were growing older, and it wasn't proper for them to sleep together.  
There was a knock on her door, and some guard announced Lord Tywin.  
Her husband was, once again, wearing his traveling cloak. Joanna did not even bother this time to ask him where was he going; he had spent most of his visit riding all over the Westerlands. She put her baby in the craddle, and smoothed her skirts, as her Lord Husband approached to her.  
"My lady" he said, leaning to kiss her hand. Joanna smiled, and kissed him in the lips.  
"My lord. Would you like some Arbor?"  
"Thank you, but no. Kevan is already in the Lion's Mouth waiting for me." There was something odd in Tywin's eyes, something Joanna could not put a name on.  
"What is it then, my lord?" Tywin observed her a few seconds, and drew a tightly rolled paper out of his cloak.  
"Maester Creylen says a raven came yesterday, from Sunspear" said Tywin in a low voice "The princess is coming for a visit."  
"Loreza?" _Oh, gods._ She had completely forgotten about Loreza's visit. She had planned to tell Tywin about it at his arrival from King's Landing, but between the birth, the twins' incident and Tyrion everything else was wiped from her mind.  
"May I ask...?  
"We were really close at Rhaella's court. I invited her a few months ago... I was still with child, and with Genna away I oft feel lonely. She wanted to meet our children, as well." To meet the baby, officially, but in true to bring the houses of Lannister and Martell closer, by marriage. To betroth Jaime with young Elia, or Cersei to Oberyn, or even both. Now of course, the last thing Tywin wanted was to let anyone meet their son, but still the gossip ran wild, and soon would be known from the Marches to the Wall. "I wanted to tell you as soon as you arrived, but I forgot" she added, apologetic. Tywin handed the letter to Joanna.  
"She seems to be bringing her two yougers as well" added Tywin, as Joanna read the letter quickly.  
"Elia is eleven, and Oberyn ten.*" said Joanna, finishing the letter "Loreza probably did not want to be parted from them." Joanna could feel her husband's gaze on her. After a few more seconds, he finally spoke.  
"I cannot forbid you to have visitors, my lady, but I'd prefer to be informed beforehand. It will be a fortnight before they arrive, if the maester tells true. I expect you to take care of the arrangements. Maybe that way you'll finally leave your chambers, and care for something besides your son." Joanna felt her stomach clenching, hard as stone. She nodded quietly, meeting her husband's pale eyes.  
Tywin had taken into calling Tyrion "the baby" or "your son", which angered her in a way she never knew, specially concerning Tywin. Her relationship with her husband was a good one, and she was completely sure of his love and devotion, but his attitude towards Tyrion was testing her patience.  
"You'll you be back by the time Loreza and her children arrive?" she asked coolly.  
"I'll be gone for a couple of days only" he fixed his cloak, as he made his way to the door."Farewell, my lady"  
"Farewell, my lord" said Joanna in a low voice, as her husband closed the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just two things:
> 
> First, I took the liberty to name Oberyn's mother Loreza, as one of the sand snakes.
> 
> Two, as I researched, I noticed Oberyn and Elia were ten years or so older than Jaime and Cersei. (Elia is even older than Rhaegar) For my plot, it did not make sense, so I took the liberty (again) to make Oberyn and Elia younger, being born between 264-265 AC.
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for reading! All comments, reviews and kudos are welcome!


	6. Cersei I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In an AU where Joanna Lannister doesn't die giving birth to Tyrion, how much would the history of Westeros would change? Long fic, begining in Tyrion's birth and following until The War of the Five Kings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, or any of the characters. Those belong to the amazing George RR Martin.

Cersei could hear her steps echoing in the corridor's walls, as she hurried to her twin's room in the dark of the night. The stone floor under her toes felt cold and hard, and soon she regretted her lack of slippers. The winter still hung over Casterly Rock, and even though the weather wasn't that harsh during the day, the western nights were cold and cruel. In her chambers, the hearth and the myrish carpets kept her warm, but the halls were mostly bare and cold.  
  
It didn't matter, anyway. Soon she would be cozy and safe, sleeping in Jaime's arms, far from the baby's annoying cries.  
  
She hated her new chambers. It wasn't only because she was forced to be separated from Jaime; as they were closer to Mother's chambers, the baby's cries woke her up two o three times at night. She wanted nothing more than choking the little monster; she had thought of waiting until the baby was alone in the nursery to sneak into it and silence him; he was going to die anyway, so nobody would be surprised. It proved to be a task way harder than she thought, as now Mother hardly ever left the wetnurse to take him away from her. It was bad enough to have a little dwarf for a brother, even if it wasn't for long, but having to hear his cries all night long was driving Cersei mad. For weeks she had tried to escape her chambers, but the guards were always at her door, and every time she dare to peep outside her bedchamber, some stupid guard would ask her if she needed anything. She would ask for some warm milk, or a serving woman to tend the fire, and went to bed reluctantly again. But not tonight.  
  
She finally glimpsed Jaime's door, and realized with annoyance Mother had not bothered herself to put guards on his chambers as well. Once again in her life, she did not understand how could everyone treat them so differently, being so alike.  
  
_It does not matter. It will be easier still to come and sleep here at night._  
She slipped into the room, and ran to Jaime's bed. _"Our bed_ " Cersei corrected herself, as she watched Jaime sleeping. _"My other half"_ Jaime was sleeping quietly, lying on his belly like a lion cub. His golden curls hid his face, but Cersei could see bruises and some scabs on his arms and on his naked back, prizes won in the training yard. The only prizes she ever won were pricks on her fingertips, after hours working on her stupid needlework with Septa Jeyne.  
  
"Jaime" she said in a low voice, shaking his shoulder. Jaime's skin felt warm under her hands "Jaime, wake up!" her twin only grunted, pulling up his sheets. Cersei frowned, and and shook him harder, but Jaime grunted again and pushed her, sleepy. Cersei pinched his arm, angry, and Jaime woke up with a whimper.  
"What's wrong with you?" asked Jaime, rubbing his arm.  
"I just want you to move aside so I can get under the covers. This is my side of the bed." said Cersei, trying to push him. Jaime sat, and didn't move.  
"What are you doing here, Cersei?" said Jaime, still half asleep.  
"I cannot sleep in my new chambers" said Cersei. Why would he even ask her that? This was _their_ bedchamber, and _their_ bed. "The stupid baby keep crying, and won't let me sleep.  
"Then ask Mother for another chambers"  
"I don't want another bedchamber, I want our bedchamber" Cersei insisted. "I hate sleeping alone. Now stop being stupid and move aside"  
"Cersei, Mother will be mad if she finds out you were here" Jaime rubbed his eyes, and added "And Father is already displeased with me, and I don't want to make everything worse by disobeying Mother."  
"I'll leave before dawn. They'll never know I was away"  
"And what about your guards?" asked Jaime, wary. Cersei snorted with disdain.  
"They were fast asleep when I left." She had peeped outside her chambers, only to find both men sleeping in the floor. It had been the easiest thing in the world to walk over them. "Gods help us if someday we need them to protect us from real harm"  
"Cersei, please. What if they wake up and see you coming back?"  
"Don't be a coward, Jaime" she teased. Her twin's eyes shining with raising anger, and Cersei smiled. It was always easier to make Jaime do what she wanted when he was angry. "Don't you want to sleep with me, like before?"  
"Yes, but..."  
"Don't you love me?" asked Cersei, running her fingers through his golden hair.  
"I do, but Cersei..."  
"Then why won't you just shut up and move aside?" Jaime seemed torn.  
"Cersei, if Mother finds out and tells Father, he will take me with him to King's Landing" he said, keeping an eye on the door "And you will have to stay here, alone"  
"Nonsense. Father wouldn't take you away from the Rock" Jaime must have made that up to make her come back to her chambers. Well, she was smarter than him, and she wouldn't fall for that.  
"But what if he does? You don't understand!" said Jaime "I don't want Mother and Father to keep us apart!"  
"And still, you don't want me to sleep here, with you" hissed Cersei.  
"But we are still together" said Jaime "If Mother were to tell Father..."  
"She won't even notice. She's way to busy nursing the little dwarf" she said bitterly. Jaime fell quiet for a few seconds, staring at her.  
"Don't you call him that. He's our brother"  
"He's a little monster" threw back Cersei.  "And she is wasting her time on him. Maester Creylen said he is going to die." Jaime gave her an odd look, and climbed off the bed. He walked towards the door, and took a deep breath.  
"Cersei, if you don't go back to your chamber, I'm going to tell Mother" said Jaime calmly. As softly as he spoke, Cersei felt as if Jaime had slapped her.  
"Have you lost your mind?"  
"No, I'm serious. I don't want to get in more trouble with Father because of you" he held the door open "I mean it, Cersei. Go back to your chambers." Cersei felt her anger rising.  
"You can't throw me away like that! This are my chambers!"  
"No, they are not. They _used_ to be our chambers, and now they are mine" replayed Jaime. Cersei closed her fists. How could he be so stupid? She wanted to hit him.  
"You are a coward!" she yelled, and Jaime jumped, startled.  
"Cersei, shut up! They are going to hear you!"  
"I don't care! You were going to tell Mother anyway, weren't you?"  
"Cersei, please!" said Jaime, raising his hands as if to ask her to keep her voice down, but Cersei could not care less. She rushed to her twin, and hit him with all her strength in the chest. She took Jaime unawares, and he feel to the floor, as Cersei kept hitting him.  
"Cersei, stop it!" yelled Jaime, trying to throw her away from him. Instead, she took grab of his hair, as Jaime struggled to hold her by her wrists. "STOP IT!"  
"Little lady!" Cersei could see from the corner of her eye the boots of the guards running to them. She felt gloved hands holding her by the waist and lifting her, as she kept kicking and hitting "Little lady, let him go!"  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! First of all, thank you for reading! You know, reviews, kudos and comments are always welcome!
> 
> Love,  
> The Lady Clegane


	7. Jaime III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In an AU where Joanna Lannister doesn't die giving birth to Tyrion, how much would the history of Westeros would change? Long fic, begining in Tyrion's birth and following until The War of the Five Kings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, or any of the characters. Those belong to the amazing George RR Martin.

The Princess of Dorne had arrived three days past, with her children. His Lord Father kissed Princess Loreza fingers with cold courtesy, and Mother had hugged her like a long lost sister. After them, Jaime and Cersei were introduced to the dornish princes. Elia and Oberyn were very much alike, with hair as black as raven feathers and sharp noses. Jaime knew there was an another brother as well, Doran, who was his mother's heir and had stayed at Sunspear; He was betrothed to a Norvoshi lady he had met traveling through the Free Cities. In the welcoming feast, Jaime escorted Princess Elia to the high table, and sat by her side, while Oberyn did the same with Cersei. Mother told him he was supposed to entertain Elia during the feast, but it was Oberyn who caught Jaime's eye. He was tall for a ten year old, quick of wit and quick to laugh, and it seemed he could not care less about formalities. When he was introduced to Cersei, Oberyn hugged her which such enthusiasm he swept her off her feet. Cersei looked quite stunned, but it was his father's face the one that worried Jaime. His green eyes flicked with gold stared at the dornish lad with displeasure, as he took seat in the high table.

Dornish food was served, to honor their guests; minced lamb with dragonpeppers, sour dornish wines, peppers stuffed with cheese, lemon cakes, boiled eggs with onions and peppers, duck with lemons and garlic, and peppers, peppers, peppers. The food was full of queer hot spices, and when uncle Gerion burned his mouth with dornish peppers, Oberyn laughed so hard that his wine was coming out of his nose. Uncle Gerion did not seem to mind and laughed as well, jesting with the young prince.

Jaime decided he liked Oberyn. He had come to practice in the training yard with his longspear and round shining shield, in the dornish fashion. His spear was a good six feet tall of turned ash, the shaft smooth and heavy. Some boys offered to try him, laughing at his choice of weapons. Ser Benedict warned them not to take lightly the dornish fighting style, which proved to be a wise advice. The dornish lad moved in ways Jaime had never seen, jumping and sliding, and his training spear, even lacking leaf-shaped spearhead, sent Elys Westerling bruised and bloodied to the floor.

Some of the men whistled and clapped, as Oberyn offered his hand to Elys to help him up.

"You broke my nose, bastard!" yelled the lad, his hands covering his face. Blood was leaking from his fingers, and he smacked away Oberyn's hand.

"Ser Benedict will not like that" said Addam in a low voice. The master-at-arms was yelling at the boy, who was now trying to stand up.

"Is that the way you speak to Lord Tywin's honor guest, Elys? " said Ser Benedict, furious "If you kept you shield up were it belongs, the spear would not have hit your nose." The lad gave an ugly stare to Ser Benedict, but he paid him no mind "Apologize to the prince, Westerling. Now!" The lad turned around, rolling his eyes, and met Oberyn's face.

"I apologize, my prince" he said in a low voice. Oberyn himself did not seem to mind. He smiled, and bowed his head mockingly to the lad.

"No harm done, Elys" he excused himself and turned his head to Jaime "Are you done training? Would you walk with me back to the castle?" Jaime looked at Ser Benedict, who nodded. Jaime left his wooden sword and his shield, and ran to catch up with Oberyn.

"You were amazing in the training yard" said Jaime after a few seconds, as both boys walked to the castle.

"You are too kind, Jaime" said Oberyn, smiling. "From what I saw, you will make a great knight one day" he flushed, pleased with himself. Oberyn stopped and sat on the grass, his back against a stone hedge "Come, sit with me" Jaime sat by his side, shielded from the sun by a great elm.

"That boy, Westerling. Is he always bad tempered?"

"Not really" said Jaime "But I think he wasn't expecting to be defeated that easily." He did not mention how many jokes about dornishmen Elys knew.

"It wasn't that easy. Is just that you westerman aren't taught how to fight a spear"

"Yes, I guess"

"And he gave me an ugly bruise on the thigh, see what I tell you" added Oberyn, pointing his left leg were Elys hit him "Which one of the boys managed to get you in the face, anyway?" Jaime felt his cheeks reddening. The bruise in his jaw had been one of Cersei's gifts, when she came to his chambers at night a few days ago. The bruise was now yellowish, almost completely faded, but it embarrassed Jaime all the same. The guards told his mother what Cersei did, which won her a few more hours reading the Maiden's book, under the watchful eye of septa Jeyne. Mother threatened as well to make Septa Jeyne share Cersei's bed, should she try again to sneak out of her chambers. Jaime saw no point in lying to him; Oberyn had a sister, anyway. They probably fought from time to time as well.

"It wasn't in the training yard" said Jaime, after a few seconds "It was Cersei who hit me"

"She did?" Oberyn laughed. Jaime stared at him, a little angry. He didn't like when people made fun of him. "Oh, don't take me wrong. I'm not laughing at you. Elia told me as much, anyway. Your sister is fierce, isn't she?" Jaime thought of Cersei's fingers, running through his hair.

"Not all the time. She was angry with me"

"She would do well in Dorne" said Oberyn. A strand of hair dangled in his eyes, limp with sweat. He pushed it away with the back of his hand "We Martells, come from a line of warrior women. Have you heard of Princess Nymeria, and her ten thousand ships?" Jaime nodded. Maester Creylen had taught him about her.

"She was a Princess of the Rhoynar. When the dragonlords conquered the Rhoyne, Nymeria led her people to Dorne, in ten thousand ships. There is a star named after her" Oberyn smiled again.

"Queen Nymeria herself wasn't a warrior as much as a commander, but many  in her army were warrior women. They are still dornishwomen who learn how to use whips and daggers, to better defend themselves."

"I think Cersei would like that" said Jaime, remembering how they used to dress in each other's clothes.

"She's still eight. Is not too late for her to learn, if she wanted to."

"Nine. And my Lord Father would never allow that" said Jaime "Nor my mother. Besides, there is no way Ser Benedict is teaching her." Oberyn gave him an odd look.

"They would not need to know" said the boy. Jaime stared at him a few seconds, wondering if Oberyn was making fun of him.

"You should learn the dornish way as well" continued Oberyn "It would make you quicker"

"Ser Benedict said none of the knights in Casterly Rock know how to fight with longspear" said Jaime. He had been talking with the master-at-arms, while Oberyn faced Elys.

"Makes no matter. Ser Ulwyck could teach you" said Oberyn  "He is and Uller of Hellholt, and Elia's sworn shield."

"I guess I could ask Father" said Jaime, wondering what his father would think of the dornish fighting style.

"Why haven't we met your little brother yet?" asked Oberyn, suddenly. His question took Jaime unawares.

"He's still a baby" he said, unsure "A feast is no place for babies" That's what Father had told his mother, anyway.

"Yes, but Elia hadn't seen him with your mother, nor have we heard his cries, and babies cry all the time. When Lady Joanna invited my mother, she said we would meet his baby. Elia loves babies, and she was very happy when my mother told her." Jaime did not know what to say. Father had forbid them to speak about Tyrion, when he told them about the Princess' visit.

"I do not know" he said, miserably "I cannot tell"

"We know he's dwarf" said Oberyn, watching him concerned. "You know that?"

"Don't call him that!" yelled Jaime, jumping to his feet. He could feel his heart beating hard, as Oberyn stood up as well.

"I didn't mean to offend you" said Oberyn, raising his hands, conciliatory. "We don't care. We were just wondering."

"This is no business of yours"

"Well, we think is just stupid. Elia will meet him anyway, eventually."

"No, she won't. Father forbade it." Oberyn seemed confused.

"He cannot keep your brother out of sight forever. Will he ban him from feasts, the Sept or training when he grows older?"

"I guess not, but it does not matter. You'll be gone by then"

"Yes, but Elia won't" Now it was Jaime's time to be confused.

"What are you talking about?"

"Didn't your mother tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"Why we are here. Elia and I." Jaime shook his head, and Oberyn smiled.

"That's should explain a lot"

"Tell me" said Jaime with annoyance. Oberyn took a deep breath.

"We are to be betrothed. Cersei and I, or Elia and you. Mother and Lady Joanna had been talking about it for months. Cersei will come to Dorne as my mother's cupbearer, and Elia will stay here, with you."  
  



	8. Joanna IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In an AU where Joanna Lannister doesn't die giving birth to Tyrion, how much would the history of Westeros would change? Long fic, begining in Tyrion's birth and following until The War of the Five Kings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, or any of the characters. Those belong to the amazing George RR Martin.

The nursery was filled with Tyrion's laugh. Loreza was helping him to walk, by holding his tiny hands as he gave some clumsy steps on the carpet, as Joanna watched them with a sad smile.

She finally managed to convince her husband to let Loreza meet the baby, and both of them had spent the day in the nursery, playing with him. Tyrion was now able to stand on his own, and he loved nothing more than exploring the nursery. When Joanna told Jaime his little brother was trying now to walk on his own, Jaime begged his father permission to visit Tyrion, but Tywin would not allow it, not until Loreza and her children were gone. When Joanna asked him if he wanted to see Tyrion's progress, he only dismissed her.

Joanna often wondered if Tywin would have ignored his second or third son in the same way he ignored Tyrion, even if they weren't... well, if they weren't as perfect as Jaime and Cersei. He had ignored for the best part of his adult life Gerion, Genna and Tygett, addressing them only when he needed. Even if he relied on Kevan for pretty much everything, Joanna was certain it was only because he needed someone to rule the Westerlands while he ruled the Seven Kingdoms. She believed, or wanted to believe, than he chose to ignore Tyrion because he was focused on his firstborn and heir.

Still, it hurted to see how little he cared for their son. Joanna knew he was proud, but knowing Tyrion was his last son, she would have hoped he would show a little more interest in him. He was a Lannister of Casterly Rock, after all.

"Rhaella is with child again, you know?" said Loreza, sitting on the myrish carpet with Tyrion. He finally seemed tired of walking around, and his attention was now fixed on his painted wooden blocks "She sent me a raven before we left Sunspear"

"May the Mother help her" said Joanna in a low voice, making the sign of the seven. After Prince Rhaegar, the queen had never been able to give birth to a living child. Her last child, Prince Aegon, did not even live to see his first nameday.

"She's bedridden, and the Grand Maester counseled her not to make any sort of effort. Anyways, she do not dare to announce the pregnancy until the baby moves inside her"

"It makes sense" said Joanna. Tyrion was drowsing now, despite his best efforts to keep his eyes open. Loreza picked him up, before he fell asleep in the carpet, and walked to the cradle.

"Have you told him yet?" asked the princess, taking Joanna unawares. She took a sip from her wine, waiting a few seconds.

"Not yet" Tywin had been specially distant in the last few days, and Joanna did not dare to ask him something that would only push him further. She had come to realize he would not be easily convinced to make the betrothals, but she couldn't find a way to tell that to the princess.

"I have to leave soon, Joanna" said Loreza, putting Tyrion back in his cradle "Doran writes to me twice every week, asking for advice, and his wedding will be in a moon turn. I cannot stay much longer."

"Is just... I cannot ask him" said Joanna in a thin voice. Loreza stared at her, puzzled. "I dare not ask him"

"What do you mean?" Joanna sighted, thinking what to say.

"Every day that passes, my husband grows less and less pleased with me" said Joanna with anguish "And I do not know how to bring him back to me"

"But why?" asked Loreza, incredulous "He loves you, the whole realms knows it!"

"I... I do not know" she lied, caressing Tyrion's hair.

"Could he had a paramour?" she suggested, unsure. Joanna raised her eyes to meet hers, and suddenly the princess seemed abashed. "I did not mean to offend you, but has it occurred to you...?

"Tywin has no use for whores." Joanna interrupted "Not since my uncle was besotted with the candlemaker's daughter"

"But then, why?"

"I think..." Joanna felt the tears rushing to her eyes "I think it's because of Tyrion" she finished with a broken voice. And soon she was sobbing, hiding her face in her hands, as Loreza rushed to hold her.

"Oh, Joanna..."

"Everyone was sure he was going to die. Maester Creylen and Tywin among them" A little laugh escaped between her sobs "But my little cub refused to die. And for that, Tywin cannot forgive us."

"Nonsense, Joanna" said the princess weakly "Think about it. He's Aerys' Hand, he must be stressed about something else. Ruling the Seven Kingdoms must be a tiresome work, and with Aerys as king..."

"No, Loreza" he managed, still sobbing "This... this is different. I know my husband, I know him since we were children. And the way he looks at me now... I've seen that face before, many times, when my uncle still lived. And my children..." the maid's face came to her mind, telling her what she saw "There is something wrong, and no matter what I do, I cannot fix it. I neglected my children, Loreza, and I fear that nothing will repair the damage. It's the gods' wrath, a punishment for all those children. The Tarbecks, and the Reynes..." _A punishment from the gods, for his arrogance. Famine, and a winter that never ends..._ "I fear for Cersei, and for Jaime"

"But what...?" Joanna raised a hand.

"Do not ask me, for the love you bear me, Loreza" she said "But I need to send away one of them, and I don't think Tywin will allow it. I'm sorry, but I don't think I can convince him now, and I do not know what to do" she kept sobbing, unable to speak, as Loreza held her.

"Joanna... You know I'd look after your children as if they were mine own" the princess wiped her tears. "If you truly believe he will not consent the betrothals, I could still foster Jaime. He could squire for my brother, Lewin. He's one of the finest swords in the Seven Kingdoms, and besides, Oberyn tell me Jaime wants to learn how to fight with longspear. My brother has never taken a squire, but if I asked him, he wouldn't deny me. Even Tywin should feel honored." Joanna laughed again, and nodded.

"Why don't you come with us?" Loreza suggested, and Joanna met her eyes. "Come to Doran's wedding, and bring your children. And if Tywin agrees, Jaime could stay there with us. But do not give up yet, Joanna, because I mean to share a grandchild with you someday." Joanna gave a nervous laugh, and Loreza smiled "Ask Tywin."

"I will" she agreed, wiping her tears "I'll ask him tonight."

 

* * *

  
  
When Joanna glimpsed Tywin's door, she felt her determination slowly crumbling. Something about her husband's gaze made her anxious, and now she regretted not asking Loreza to come with her.

As the guard opened the door, Gerion walked out of the room, smiling.

"Dear cousin" he greeted, kissing her fingers almost mockingly. Something about him made everything he did seem mockery, but Joanna knew he meant no harm.

"Gerion" she smiled back "Is my husband busy?"

"He's always busy" he jested, scratching his beard "I oft wonder how he manage to find time to sleep or shit, beg your pardons, but I guess it has something to do with being Hand. Now if you excuse me, dear Joanna, I mean to go to the kitchens to rob fat old Diane, since I missed dinner writing letters with my brother." He bowed his head and walked past Joanna, whistling something that sounded like Six Maids in a Pool. Joanna watched him walking away with a smile. Like Genna, Gerion's tongue often managed to bring him a lot of trouble, specially with Tywin, but Joanna loved him all the same. Joanna knew Tywin had half in mind to marry him off soon, but he probably was expecting an opportunity to earn some profit from the match. As soon as Tywin needed to ensure any western house to him, for men or ships or mines, Joanna was sure Gerion would be the coin to pay for it.

"M'lady?" said the guard "Are you coming in?"

"Yes, thank you" the man held the door and Joanna walked inside his husband's  chambers.

Lord Tywin was, as ever, sitting reading and writing letters to all the Seven Kingdoms. Wherever Lord Tywin goes, the ravens follow. Without lifting his eyes from the letter, her husband raised a hand, pointing the chair across the table, and Joanna went to sit down. _A year ago, he would have stopped his work to come and greet me with a kiss._ She shook her head, in an attempt to drive away that kind of thoughts from her mind.

"Yes?" said Tywin, warming his red wax. Joanna stood silent a few seconds, unsure how to start.

"Loreza is leaving in a few days, she tells me" began Joanna. She was feeling as nervous as a maiden in her bedding. Tywin did not raise his eyes from the letter.

"I will tell Kevan to arrange a farewell feast" he said simply, as he wrote "And Gerion can go and see the goldsmith with you. I expect you'll want to give something to the children as well?" he met her eyes for a second, and Joanna nodded "We can give the lad a dagger... a jewelled pommel, maybe some goldwork on the blade. Gerion will see to that as well. I'll instruct him to meet you in the morrow."

"Thank you, my lord" she said, flattening her skirts. Tywin let the wax fall into the letter, and pressed his seal against it. The Hand of the King shone on the red liquid wax, and Tywin blew on it before setting it aside.

"You are still here" he added, as he took another letter and broke the seal.

"You know how close Loreza and I were in Rhaella's court" she started "And we've been talking... Loreza wants to make a betrothal, between Oberyn and Cersei, and she asked me to come and talk to you, before she officially proposes you the match"

"And I suppose Princess Loreza wants Cersei to go to Dorne"

"As her cupbearer, yes" affirmed Joanna "The Water Gardens are full of children. Cersei need girls of her age around her." _And the gods know she needs to be parted from Jaime_. Joanna felt her husband's gaze on her, making her uneasy. 

"Dorne is the most promiscuous court in the Seven Kingdoms" he continued after a few seconds "I will not have my only daughter raised among bastards and sodomites. Besides, my lady" he added "Princess Loreza must be taking you for a fool. Oberyn is not even her firstborn. Why would we marry Cersei to a second son, without lands or titles to hold by his own? "

"Oberyn will hold the Water Gardens in Doran's name" said Joanna "And he is a Prince of Dorne by rights"

"And what about Cersei's children?" asked Tywin "What will they inherit?"

"A child by a dornish prince and a Lannister of Casterly Rock surely would have suitors." Insisted Joanna, unsure. 

"Upjumped lords and stewards's whelp" said her husband coolly "More second sons, and minor houses. No, my lady. I will not allow it." Joanna felt her anger rising.

"Won't you even consider it?"

"No, I won't. Besides, what you may want makes no matter, my lady. Cersei's hand is already promised" said Tywin. He seemed quite amused, for a change. She was puzzled. 

"What do you mean?"

"To another prince. And this one is a firstborn" It took Joanna a while to understand his meaning. A clenching on her belly soon followed, as a foreshadowing.

"Was this Aerys' notion?" she asked with a thin voice. Tywin studied her a few seconds, and Joanna had the nasty feeling that he was considering if he could trust her with the information.

"I mean to propose the match to him as soon as spring begins" Tywin set aside the letter, and took another.

"So, was this you idea, my lord?" Joanna almost could feel Aerys cruel fingers, pinching her breasts during her bedding. "Do you really want your only daughter to married off to a Targaryen, our grandchildren wed, brother to sister?" _I walked into the chamber, to bring them more hot water for their bath, m'lady, and they were kissing on the tub, I swear by the old gods and the new, m'lady. Young Jaime, and the little Lady._

"Our daughter will be queen of the Seven Kingdoms" interrupted Tywin, watching her coolly. He was finally looking at her. Joanna did not know if that scared her or calmed her down "Our grandchildren kings"

"You have grown too proud, Tywin" said Joanna "Aerys will not allow his firstborn and heir to marry Cersei. Did you know the Queen is with child?" her husband's face told her he did not know.

"Her Grace would never bear a living child again. Or so Pycelle tells me" _Does that means Rhaella can't have a baby, or that Pycelle will see to that?_

"Makes no matter. Aerys will wait for Cassana to have a girl, or find a valyrian bride across the Narrow Sea"

"Cersei is our first daughter, a highborn child who descends from the Kings of the Rock. Kings who ruled the Westerlands for thousands of years, since the Age of Heroes" said Lord Tywin "A child who will grow up to be a beautiful maiden in a few years. Surely Aerys will see that." It was no good to argue. Joanna decided she will light a candle to the Mother, to ask her to give Rhaella a daughter.

"And what about Jaime and Elia?" she asked, before Tywin left the room. Her husband stopped, and turned to face her.

"Did Princess Loreza proposed that as well?" Joanna nodded, and added quickly before he could say something else.

"Elia is eleven, on the brink of maidenhood. A princess, born of a royal line, as a Nymeros, and as a Martell. Jaime could squire for Prince Lewin, until they are old enough to be wed. Loreza even went as far as asking us to attend Doran's wedding, in a moon turn"

"Jaime may go to Dorne, as Prince Lewin's squire" he allowed, after a few seconds "But nothing more"

"Won't you even consider the betrothal?" 

"In a few years, perhaps." He had now taken a letter again, and busied himself breaking a seal "I cannot waste time in weddings, but if you want, you may go with Cersei and Jaime. Maybe a glimpse of the dornish court will discourage your notions of marrying our children to them. Tygett could go with you, and..."

"...And what about Tyrion?" interrupted Joanna, cold with anger "Can't I take our own child with me?"

"No, you cannot" said Tywin, putting down his quill. "I will not have you showing him around, as some kind of grotesquery." The bitterness in his voice was like a slap in Joanna's face. "Is bad enough having you nursing him yourself here, at Casterly Rock, as if he was something to be proud of." Joanna felt her hands trembling.

"How can you say that, Tywin? He is your child!"

" _Your_ child, my lady." Joanna felt her tears rushing to her eyes, and she could not stop them. "You may go, to regain your composure" he added, taking his quill again. That was more than what Joanna could take.

"You have always been such a bright man... How can you not see it? Your pride, and your arrogance will destroy us. You are reaching too high, my lord, and the gods will not allow it. Lady Tarbeck, Lord Reyne... All those children, Tywin!" Joanna felt her heart beating hard, but could not stop herself "The gods watch over all of us, and sent us a warning, but instead of showing some humility, you let your pride blind you. And now you want our daughter, married off to a Targaryen prince? The Targaryens are all mad. Have you forgotten Aerys, and our bedding? All the ways he tried to humiliate me? Have you lost your mind?" Tywin's eyes made her understand she had crossed the line. Her husband got up from the chair, and fixed his cloak.

"You forget yourself, my lady" said Tywin coolly "It wasn't because I wanted your opinion in the matter that I told you about it. I was informing you, to prevent you of making any kind of promise or betrothal for my daughter. And do not blame the gods for your... son." 

"Our son, Tywin" sobbed Joanna "Our last son, our baby boy. I cannot have more children, maester Creylen said as much. Our last child, and you haven't even held him once" 

"Nor I will" said her husband. He turned his back on her, and made his way out of the chambers, and out of Joanna's heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! All comments and kudos are most welcome.
> 
> Love, The Lady Clegane


	9. Cersei II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In an AU where Joanna Lannister doesn't die giving birth to Tyrion, how much would the history of Westeros would change? Long fic, begining in Tyrion's birth and following until The War of the Five Kings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, or any of the characters. Those belong to the amazing George RR Martin.

Septa Jeyne's voice was like the buzzing of an specially annoying fly. Cersei was falling asleep in her chair, with her face buried between her arms. At first, every time she started to drowse, the septa would shake her shoulder or tap her table, forcing Cersei to raise her face and pretend to be listening. Now, after days and days of tedious reading, the septa did not even seem to care whether she was awake or sleeping. She kept reading pieces of the Maiden's book and the Revelations of Septa Brida out loud, only stopping to make Cersei sew and weave and practice her letters.  
  
Cersei hated it.  
  
"These are the words of the Maiden: Let it be done as I reveal to you, that all gently-born women who have yet to marry and bear children shall be beloved by Me according to my will."  
  
Septa Brida, again. By now, Cersei could recite the three revelations by heart, but still Septa Jeyne insisted in reading her the Maiden's Revelations day after day. Cersei believed it was her mother's notion, maybe hoping that way she could transform Cersei in the bleating sheep she wanted her to be. It did not matter, anyway; Cersei was a lioness to the bones, and she was made for roaring, and no one, not even Lady Joanna could take that from her.  
  
_Hear me roar._  
  
"First, that a young woman shall submit to her father’s rule in all things, and after her father, to her mother’s guidance.  They are set above her by the will of the Seven, and it is unto them she owes all her respect and obeisance, as she owes to the Seven."  
  
Well, at least she could outmaneuver her lady mother that way. Father was different, a true lion of the Rock; he despised weakness, and he would not want a meek woman for a daughter. As soon as he was back from Ashemark, Cersei would run to him and ask him to free her from her never ending lessons and the wretched septa. Not even Mother could disobey Father; no one did. When the Lannister Lion roared, everyone rushed to his commands.  
  
"Let her learn the ways of the Mother while she is yet a maid.  Let her stitch and sew, spin and weave, that her husband might be well-dressed, her children kept warm, and their home adorned as her husband might will it."  
  
She could not understand what happened to Mother. Cersei always believed her Lady Mother was a lioness, by birth as well as marriage, but of late she had an air of weakness on her, a fragility Cersei misliked. And she was more distant than ever. Lady Joanna used to come to her chambers and brush her golden locks, and sometimes she and Cersei would go to the training yard to see Jaime beat the other boys with his wooden sword. Now every time she visited Cersei it was to lecture her.  
  
_Is the little monster's fault. Everything changed when he was born. He took my mother away from me, and shamed us all._  
  
"Let her learn, with her own hands, to toil as a servant might toil. Let her know the roughness of her hands from hard work, that she might better guide her servants with knowledge and compassion."  
  
The stupid little dwarf, who just wouldn't die. A fortnight ago, Mother tried to make Cersei spend some time with the monster, and almost dragged Cersei to the nursery, talking about how he was now trying to walk and stuff. Cersei could not care less. When she told her to hold her brother, Cersei was so disgusted by his horrible eyes and twisted legs, she dropped him. Her mother was so mad she yelled at her and asked the guards to take her back to her chambers.  
  
_It was her fault. I told her I didn't want to hold him, and she made me do it anyway._  
  
"Let her be taught by a Septa of the Faith the ways of humility, charity, compassion, and forgiveness. In this way she will be soft-spoken and womanly, and her virtues will be many."  
  
Soft-spoken, and humble and meek. Not, that she would not do. She refused to become a weakling, to surrender easily and accept whatever her mother wanted her to become. No, she would fight for what she wanted, with all her strength and wit.  
  
_And if they don't believe I will, just ask Jaime._  
  
She smiled sleepily. A few days past, the bruise was still visible in Jaime's jaw, something that ashamed him in a way that made Cersei laugh. Even though bruises and scabs were something usual in boys, especially those who trained as hard as Jaime did, there weren't a lot of lads who could manage to get him in the face.  
  
_But I did. If I could train, if the gods and Father allowed me to learn, I could be as good as Jaime. I could be even better_.  
  
"Cersei, are you even listening?" asked the septa "Sit up straight, child. You are a lady, not some lazy stableboy" Cersei rolled her eyes and lifted her face, meeting the septa's brown eyes. "Did you hear what I just read?" Cersei's eyes narrowed, angry.  
  
"No" she lied, without blinking. Septa Jeyne closed her book and placed it in Cersei's table.  
  
"Should I start again, from the beginning?" asked the septa. "So you can listen this time?" Cersei wanted nothing more than taking the ugly book and throw it to the Septa's face.  
  
"You can read it as many times as you want" said Cersei, pushing the stupid book away from her "It won't matter. _I won't listen."_  
  
"Then it will be you reading it out loud" stated the septa, pushing the book back to Cersei. "That way you will have to listen" Cersei felt her hands shaking, and tears rushing to her eyes.  
  
_A lioness doesn't cry._  
  
"I WON'T" she yelled, throwing the Revelations of Septa Brida off the table.  
  
"Don't you talk to me like that, little lady!"  raged Septa Jeyne, picking up her precious book "You will apologize, or else I'll tell Lady Joanna!"  
  
"I don't care!" yelled Cersei, crossing her arms. She could feel her jaw trembling with anger. The septa smashed the book on the table, and opened her mouth to lecture her, when a soft voice interrupted.  
  
"Septa Jeyne?" Cersei turned her head when she heard her father's voice at the door. Lord Tywin was, as ever, wearing his traveling cloak, and his eyes went from the septa to his daughter, studying them.  
  
"My lord" said the septa, forgetting about Cersei, and hurrying to bow. Cersei smiled pleased. Her father always had that effect on people.  
  
"If you don't mind, I'd like to have a word with my daughter. You may be excused" commanded Lord Tywin, waving his hand at the door. Cersei was so thankful she almost ran to hug her father. Septa Jeyne excused herself, and leaned to take her book from the table. She made a clumsy bow to Lord Tywin, and left the room.  
  
Lord Tywin waited until the door closed behind the septa, and walked to meet his daughter.  
  
"Come and kiss me, child" Cersei stood up at once and ran to gave her father a clumsy kiss on his cheek. "Why was Septa Jeyne yelling?" he asked softly. Cersei felt her stomach give a nervous turn.  
  
"She was angry with me, because I was falling sleep while she read" she said quickly "It so boring, Father. She reads to me the Maiden's book and Septa Brida's Revelations over and over again" Lord Tywin threatened with a smile.  
  
"You need to learn how to be a perfect lady, Cersei" he stated "Septa Jeyne is only doing her work" Cersei felt her stomach sank. Tears rushed to her eyes again, to her dismay. "Now, don't cry, child. You're a lioness" her father reminded her "And a lioness never cries" Cersei nodded and wiped her tears. She was almost angry with herself for her weakness.  
  
"I know, Father. I won't cry" she promised.  
  
"You should be happy to learn how to be a better wife and mother in the future" said Lord Tywin "That, and your name and beauty, men will fight to win your favor and your hand" _I don't want men to fight for me. I want Jaime to fight for me_. Cersei nodded again, and sighted. Her father studied her for a moment "Let me tell you a secret, child." He leaned to meet her eyes, and Cersei moved closer."It is very important for you to learn all the womanly arts. I need you to be the perfect bride, for the prince" It took Cersei a few seconds to understand what was her father talking about.  
  
"The prince?" she asked, lost.  
  
"Prince Rhaegar" said her father "And when he's crowned, you shall be his queen."  
_Prince Rhaegar..._  
  
"I will be his queen?" she asked with excitement, not sure if she understood.  
  
"You will" her father promised "Never speak of it, child," said Lord Tywin, smiling to her daughter "Not until His Grace agrees to the betrothal. It must remain our secret for now."  
  
"I understand, Father" said Cersei, smiling. _The queen, I'm going to be queen..._ Her father stood up.  
  
"Now I must go, child" said Lord Tywin"  
  
"Are you leaving already, Father?" asked Cersei.  
  
"His Grace needs me in King's Landing" said her father "Winter is over now, and the king summoned me to meet with the small council. But I won't be away for long, I promise" Cersei smirked, and bowed to her father.  
  
"Farewell, Father. I'll pray for your safe return" she said, as ladylike as she could.  
  
"Farewell, Cersei" he said, bowing his head "And stand up straight" said Lord Tywin "Or else, when you're the queen, your crown will keep falling off" Cersei smiled, and hugged her father.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are with chapter 9! I really hope you like it... Young Cersei is just so difficult to write, it takes me forever to write her POVs... Anyway, thank you for reading, and as always, kudos and comments are most welcome!
> 
> Love  
> The Lady Clegane.


	10. Joanna V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In an AU where Joanna Lannister doesn't die giving birth to Tyrion, how much would the history of Westeros would change? Long fic, begining in Tyrion's birth and following until The War of the Five Kings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, or any of the characters. Those belong to the amazing George RR Martin.

"You will look so beautiful, my lady,” said the seamstress, as she took a few steps back to watch her work. "The color green does favor you, and the golden Myrish lace goes beautifully with your hair. It fits you so perfectly. I believe I'll only ask the apprentice girl to cut up the sleeves..."

  
"Will it be ready on the morrow?" interrupted Joanna, watching herself with a critical eye on the polished silver glass before her.  
"Certainly, my lady,” assured the woman, nodding. "I'll bring it myself, as soon as it's ready."

"See that you do,” said Joanna. "I mean to take this gown to Dorne, and if it's not ready by the time we leave..."

"Never, my lady!" said the woman, scandalized "I can assure you. Marya and her girls have never failed you, nor will we."

"Good" said Joanna "On the morrow, then."

"Yes, my lady.” Joanna nodded, and the woman rushed to finish measuring the gown's last details. She kept babbling, but Joanna wasn't listening anymore. This woman Marya was always talking more than she should, buzzing in Joanna's ear like an annoying fat fly.

 

 The seamstress was pinning needles into Joanna's long sleeves, when a guard announced the arrival of Lady Genna. 

 

"Yes, yes, very pretty,” said Genna, interrupting the guard. "She knows very well who I am, thank you very much. And next time you feel like yelling my name, recall that I am Genna Lannister. Frey is for my Lord husband, gods help us all." Joanna couldn't help but smile. With a wave of her hand, she dismissed the seamstress. The woman hurried to take the unfinished gown off Joanna, folding it carefully before leaving the nursery.

"Oh, Joanna,” said Genna as she climbed down the little tabouret the seamstress used to measure her. “Dear cousin, it gladdens my heart to see you so well,” said Genna, taking Joanna's hands into her own. She kissed both her cheeks, and stared at her. "When I first heard how much you struggled to bring little Tyrion into the world, I lit seven candles to the Mother and asked her to spare you. For the children, yes, and for Tywin and house Lannister, but for me and for the realm as well. I do not dare to imagine what would happen to our family if we lost you, my good sister."

"The Mother heard your prayers.” _Though she took a price as well_. Joanna took her embroidered nightgown, and put it on with her cousin's help. "Oh, Genna, you can't imagine how much I needed you."

"Yes, we need a very long talk before you leave for Sunspear,” agreed Genna, before turning her head. “But before, where is this nephew I haven't met yet? They tell me you spend most of your days in here, taking care of little Tyrion. Well, I suppose that if you go as far as making the seamstress to come to the nursery to attend you, that part at least must be true."

"I like to have him close to me,” said Joanna. “Especially now, that I'll have to leave him while I'm in Dorne.” Genna gave her a suspicious look, before walking to the little cradle.

"Yes, I thought as much,” said Genna, moving the little curtains that covered the cradle aside. "When Tywin's letter arrived to the Twins, he only mentioned he needed me at The Rock to look after Cersei and your new wards, but he made no mention of Tyrion.” She bent over and picked the child up carefully to avoid waking him up. "Yet I thought, _‘How could Joanna take Tyrion on such a long voyage?’_ I knew you would not risk your child's life at open sea, so I gathered I would be looking after Tyrion as well." Joanna stood silent. She had thought of taking Tyrion to Dorne anyway, despite Tywin's orders. What could Tywin do? Lock her away? But a few nights before, Creylen made her come back to her senses.

 

"He's just a little boy, my lady, a child who hasn't even seen his second nameday,” said the maester, rubbing his hands nerviously. "He's strong now, but why would you want to defy the gods like that? What if he catches a chill, or some sailor's disease? After all the pain you suffered to bring him to the world, please my lady, do not risk the child's life."

 

_And please, do not risk Lord Tywin's wrath._

 

Against all her instincts, Joanna agreed to leave Tyrion at the Rock with the wetnurse, who would look after the child under the careful eye of the maester. Nevertheless, it soothed her heart to know that Genna would be taking care of her son as well. 

 

"So, this is Tyrion Lannister,” said Genna, bringing back Joanna from her thoughts. “Second born son of Lady Joanna and Lord Tywin of Casterly Rock."

“Second born, and last,” said Joanna, sitting on the window bench beside Tyrion's cradle. "According to Creylen, at least." Genna gave her an odd stare, and sighed.

"Well, three children is more than enough, I believe. Two boys, besides, and a girl who promises to outshine the sun,” said Genna kindly. She sat in the cushioned chair in front of Joanna, caressing Tyrion's white hair. "How did my brother take it?" she asked, meeting Joanna's face.

"I... I do not know anymore,” said Joanna, massaging her temple. "He has grown cold, but so much has happened..." She stopped herself, unwilling to let her tears come. She took a deep breath before she found her tongue. "He's angry with the gods, and with me, for Tyrion. I think he believed he would die, and when he refused..." a sad smile came unbidden to her lips. "Maybe he'll come back to his senses in a few moon turns." Genna sighed.

"Let us pray he does. He loves you dearly, we all know it.” Tyrion started to grunt, moving in his aunt's arms. "But he can be as stubborn as a mule. Just give him time, Joanna." Tyrion woke up with a cry, moving his little arms willfully. "Looks like my nephew is looking for his momma.” She gave the child to Joanna, who started to murmur a lullaby to him.  

"Well, at least your boy will have a cousin of his age to play with.” Genna slapped her belly, and gave Joanna a meaningful look. "My Lord Husband managed to get me with child again. He gets bolder when he's at the Twins, you see,” she rolled her eyes, and Joanna laughed. "Dear Emmon, he even insist we share a bedchamber, though I'm not quite sure if that's his idea. It stinks of Lord Walder if you ask me. Oh, he prays for another boy, of course, to play with little Cleos, but I'm not sure if it's fair to keep popping Freys into the world."

"The queen is with child as well,” said Joanna. _And Tywin prays for a boy as well, so he can sell our daughter to Aerys' son._

"That I did not know,” said Genna, staring at Joanna suspiciously. "And Lord Walder is one of the most gossipy men I've ever met. How did you know? Are you in touch with the queen again?"

"You know I don't. Not since she dismissed me.”  Tyrion kept crying, so she began to walk around the nursery, to sooth him "It was Loree she told."

"The Dornish princess. Of course,” agreed Genna. "Where is she now? I thought I would find her here, with you."

"Gerion took her and the children hawking,”  informed Joanna. When Gerion proposed the expedition to Loreza, she had been worried about leaving Cersei alone with the other children, but there was no way to give Jaime permission and deny it to Cersei, so she could only prayed Cersei would behave herself. Tyrion's cries became louder, as he moved restless in his mother's arms.

"Give the child to me, Joanna. If I'm going to take care of him for the next moon turns, he better get used to his Auntie Genna.” She took Tyrion from her mother's arms. The child’s anxiety was palpable.

"Momma,” babbled Tyrion, extending his little arms to Joanna.

"Hush, love,” said Genna, flattening the child's white hair. "Leave your mother to rest.” Joanna smiled, as the mismatched eyes of her son studied Genna's face warily. "And tell me, good sister,” continued Genna, “who are these girls, Cersei's new companions?"

"Melara Hetherspoon and Jeyne Farman,” said Joanna "Jeyne is the only daughter of Lord Farman, of Fair Island. And Melara is the youngest daughter of Ser Tybolt Hetherspoon."

"Ser Tybolt?" asked Genna. "The fool with the spoon on his coat of arms?"

"A landed knight,” said Joanna. Genna clacked her tongue.

"Only an idiot would make a spoon his sigil, if you ask me. What good is a spoon, especially if your little title demands you to be a warrior? But I guess it doesn't matter how foolish your sigil is, when you are a girl. And two girls are better than none. They'll keep our little lioness occupied, and make sure she doesn't miss Jaime that much." Joanna felt her stomach turning. "And how on earth did you manage to convince Tywin to send Jaime away?"

"Prince Lewin agreed to take him as his squire,” said Joanna quickly. "He has never taken a squire before, and he's a great knight. Tywin should feel honored." Genna laughed.

"My brother, honored? He probably believes Prince Lewin is the one who should feel honored." Joanna smiled despite herself. Tyrion grew restless in Genna's arms, trying to kick her to get to the floor. "Can he walk?" asked Genna.

"Whenever he feels like it, with a little help still,” said Joanna. Her cousin put the child on the carpet, and he immediately crawled to his wooden blocks. "But he mostly crawls. Creylen says it may take longer for him to walk without aid." Genna sighed.

"And his wits?" she asked.

"Is too soon to know,” said Joanna, tossing her golden braid aside. "But Creylen assures me that the child does not show any sign of being simple."

"Thank the gods,” said Genna, watching her nephew trying to built a tower with his painted wooden blocks. "When do you leave?" she asked, softly.

"In a couple of days, so we can reach Sunspear in time for Doran's wedding. We are to follow _Nymeria's Star_ , on the _Lady Rohanne_. And Tygett is to come with us, as well as a few men-at-arms."

"That will break little Darlessa's heart, to be sure,” mocked Genna, making Joanna smile again. Darlessa often seemed terrified of his betrothal's ferocious nature. Not that Tygett cared; unlike Kevan's deep affection for his little wife, Tygett did not seem to even notice his young betrothed. Joanna suspected that it wasn't because he wasn't pleased with Darlessa, but because Tywin arranged the betrothal without consulting him. _And it will not matter. In the end, we all dance to Tywin's tune._ Genna sighed again. "But that can't be helped. We all have our duties to House Lannister, as she will learn, and the sooner, the better."

 

_As we all did._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! This one took a little longer, but with my finals and thesis, writing has proved, unfortunately, to be a real challenge. Anyway, I hope you like it.  
> I want to thank the wonderful Mimette, who has been an invaluable help with this story. Again, thanks for reading, your comments and kudos are always appreciated.


	11. Jaime IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In an AU where Joanna Lannister doesn't die giving birth to Tyrion, how much would the history of Westeros would change? Long fic, begining in Tyrion's birth and following until The War of the Five Kings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, or any of the characters. Those belong to the amazing George RR Martin.

 

Laying in the green grass of the Stone Garden, Jaime wondered how different the Narrow Sea could be from the Sunset Sea. Oberyn claimed that Sunspear was surrounded on three sides by the sea, pretty much like Casterly Rock, but Jaime still felt quite apprehensive. As much as he liked Oberyn, he just could not warm up to the idea of leaving the Westerlands to live in a place as strange as Dorne. Lady Joanna told him she would take him to Dorne, to attend Oberyn's older brother wedding, and to pay back the princess' visit. Jaime was thankful for that, at least. He had spent a lot of time with Oberyn of late, but the princess of Dorne was still a stranger to him, as well as young Elia. He'd still have his family with him, at least for a few moon turns.  
  
Despite that, Jaime was still nervous about sailing so far from Casterly Rock. He had never traveled such a long distance by ship, and it was common knowledge that pirate princes and Ironmen infested the waters. They would not dare to attack his father's lands, but what if they chose to attack their ship? His mother told him uncle Tygett and some of the men-at-arms would come as well, to protect them, but what could they do against dozens of pirates, or a furious storm?    
  
When Jaime asked him about the pirates, Oberyn just laughed.  
  
"Pirates would never dare to attack us,” he assured. "My mother is the ruling princess of Dorne, and there was a time when we Dornish were seafolk as well, before Nymeria married her Martell king. As for the storms, we traveled to your Rock during winter, when the storms are supposed to be at their worst. No harm came to our ships, and with spring upon us, our journey will be swift and safe. Fear nothing, Jaime.”  
  
"I'm not afraid,” balked Jaime, though he still had his doubts.  
  
Despite what Oberyn said, there was no talk of betrothals; His Lady Mother only spoke about the great honor of being Prince Lewyn's squire. Jaime wondered why couldn't he squire for one of his father's bannerman. That way, he could stay at the Rock, or at least in the Westerlands; close to his family, and close to Cersei.  
  
Oberyn, on the other hand, was beside himself with happiness. He spent every evening telling Jaime stories about the Dornish wars against the dragon lords of old, their deadly vipers, and their ever more lethal Dornish sun. He spoke of salt Dornishmen, stone Dornishmen and Dornishmen, of Nymeria and the Rhoynar, and their queer Dornish laws.  


Despite of the failure of his betrothal with Cersei, Oberyn did not seem very concerned. Jaime was glad he didn't mind. Ever since Oberyn told him about the betrothals, he had felt kind of betrayed by him.  He remembered the way the Dornish prince hugged his sister during the welcoming feast, something that now made him a bit angry. But after the princess told Oberyn that Cersei would remain at Casterly Rock, he seemed to lose all interest in her. The day before, when they rode out hawking with his Uncle Gery, Oberyn spend his time between Jaime and Elia, pretty much ignoring Cersei the whole time. _Well, it is not like Cersei gave us a lot of choice._ When they arrived to the stables to mount their horses, Cersei had not even greeted them, keeping her face a stony mask. He still felt a little bad for her, as he laughed at Oberyn's jests and Elia's wit. _She looks so lonely, and about to become lonelier still._

 "Have you heard what the serving women were talking about?" asked Addam. He was sitting on the twisted roots of a weirwood, playing with a broken branch "They say some girls are coming to live here, at Casterly Rock."

 "Girls?" asked Jaime, forgetting about Oberyn and Dorne for a second. "What girls?"

 "Your Lady Mother asked some of the western lords to send their daughters to Casterly Rock, to foster and be cupbearers." _Cersei will hate that._

"Are they hostages?" said Jaime, feeling a little lost. His own aunt, Dorna Swyft, used to be a hostage for his father's debt, until his uncle Kevan fell in love with her and married her. Addam gave him an odd stare, and shook his head.

"They are meant to be your sister's companions.” _I am the only company Cersei needs._ "I thought they’d be asking for some boys as well, but they didn't. It seems that it will be you and me only, and the older lads." _No. It'll be only you, while I'm well away in Dorne._ Jaime wondered if Lord Tywin would send Addam back to his father once he was in Sunspear. His lord father and uncle Kevan had rode to Ashemark a few days past, so Jaime believed that might be one of the reasons. Jaime could still feel Addam's gaze on him, as if waiting for an answer. 

"Do you know these girls?" he asked, sitting down.

"I know Jeyne Farman. Her father payed a visit to Ashemark once, to propose a betrothal, according to my mother. But my father refused.” _Probably hoping you could marry Cersei one day_. Cersei told Jaime about that before Tyrion was born. And that was Father's turn to refuse Lord Marbrand, to Cersei's delight. Addam had never said a word about that, or at least not to Jaime. "She's pretty, though not beautiful like your sister." Jaime felt suddenly angry at Addam. Why was everyone trying to marry Cersei?

 "Let's go back to the castle,” said Jaime, abruptly, jumping to his feet. Addam gave him an odd stare, as Jaime picked up his wooden sword from the grass. 

As he made his way to his chambers, followed by a confused Addam, Jaime wondered if his twin knew he would be leaving the Rock soon. Ever since Cersei's visit to his chambers, Jaime only saw her during meals with their Lady Mother and his uncles, so he had no way of asking her. Could she be so angry with him that she did not care if he left? Jaime did not want to believe it. 

He passed in front of Cersei's door, where two guards watched over her day and night, ever since one of the serving woman found them playing at kissing. He could hear Septa Jeyne's voice through the wooden door, instructing his sister in the Faith of the Seven. _She must be really bored._ Cersei hated when her septa read her hear passages of The Seven Pointed Star, and nothing about the gods seemed to interest her. Just like Father. Jaime had overheard once a man-at-arms saying Lord Tywin didn't bother himself with gods. Sometimes he wondered if that meant Cersei was like Father, or only that she wanted to be like him. 

Before, they took pretty much all their lessons together, but that was before the kissing. "You must never kiss like that again,” he could still hear his mother saying, her hands placed on her big round belly. "Those type of kisses are for husbands and wives, married in the eyes of the Seven. You are not to do it again, or I will tell your lord father." 

_Or I will tell your Lord Father..._ That was all it took to keep Jaime away from Cersei, even if that meant to face his twin's rage. But Cersei was another matter; she hadn't take it so lightly. She cried, refused to eat, threw a chamberpot at her guards, called Jaime names, yelled at a serving woman until she made her cry, and even went as far as letting Tyrion fall when Mother gave him to Cersei. That last one made Mother angrier than Jaime had ever seen her; Mother never raised her voice, but that time his lady mother's yelling was even louder than Tyrion's cries. Cersei insisted it was an accident, but Jaime wasn't so sure. Jaime supposed Mother had also threatened Cersei with telling on her to their lord father, but she just did not care. 

But if it was Cersei who kept disobeying and defying their mother, why was he the one sent away? He did as he was bid, staying well away from Cersei's chambers, training hard and behaving himself. He even stopped eating sweets, as his father told him. And yet, now he was the one leaving The Rock and his family, to spend years and years among strangers in Dorne. It just wasn't fair.

He waved his hand at Marbrand when he reached his chambers, and rushed inside as soon as the guard opened the door, holding his tears until there was no one to see them. 

_Why is it me who has to leave?_  

He had tried to talk his mother out of it, but Lady Joanna may as well have been made of stone. As much as Jaime begged, nothing persuaded his mother.

"But who's going to take care of Tyrion if I'm gone?" he asked, desperately. Lady Joanna only smiled and caressed his golden hair. 

"You'll be gone only for a few years,” he heard his mother saying, gently. "And you'll be able to visit the Rock from time to time." 

And Father had been worse. When he summoned Jaime to his solar, before he took the Goldroad back to King's Landing, Jaime gathered all his courage and asked his father to spare him. When he felt Lord Tywin's pale eyes staring at him, he knew he had made a huge mistake.

"You will do as you are bid. I must confess, Dorne was not my first option, but your Lady Mother insisted. You are a Lannister of Casterly Rock, remember that; do not shame us. It's past time you stop clinging to your mother's skirts." That night, Jaime had cried himself to sleep.

After that, Jaime knew there was no way out of it. He finally resolved to say his farewells, to old Diane, the cook, and to Ser Benedict at the training yard, who gave him a awkward hug and bid him to keep training hard; to his uncles Gerion and Kevan, to baby Tyrion, and even to an astonished Addam.

"But, when will we see each other again?" He asked. Jaime did not know what to tell him

Finally, the only farewell he had not said was to his sister. He was supposed to bid her farewell on the decks, right before he left with his mother, but he wanted to talk to Cersei desperately. Jaime did not want to leave The Rock and Cersei without a proper farewell, something that could not happen under the careful green eyes of his Mother. 

But the day of their parting came too soon, and before Jaime could find his courage to finally sneak into his twin's chambers, the _Lady Rohanne_ was waiting for them in the great port of the Rock. According to Oberyn, the princess had insisted that Lady Joanna and their company would travel on her own ship, but Father had declined. Before he took the Goldroad back to the king and his Small Council, he had commanded uncle Tygett to prepare everything for their voyage. 

Jaime's last day on the Rock, his lady mother feasted the Dornish princess in the Great Hall, where the smell of food and the voices of the singers filled the air. Jaime knew it was his last chance to see Cersei, with all the guards and grown men distracted. He gathered all the courage he had left, and when he took his leave from his mother, instead of making his way to his chamber, he rushed to Cersei's.

As he thought, there were no guards posted at Cersei's chamber, but as Jaime took the last steps and reached for the door, a now familiar apprehensive feeling swept over him. What if Cersei did not want to see him? Or if she tried to hit him? This time it wasn't Cersei sneaking into his bedchamber, and if mother found out Jaime was here, she would be displeased. 

Jaime took a deep breath, and opened his sister's door.

Cersei was laying on the carpet, close to the window. She was still wearing the red gown from the feast, and she had a black quill in her hand. It seemed to Jaime that she was writing something on a piece of parchment. 

"Cersei?" he called, and his sister jumped, startled. When her jade eyes met his, Cersei took the parchment and folded it as she stood up. She stared at Jaime, and made a little bow with her head.

"Brother,” she said, flattening her skirts. "What are you doing in my chambers?" she asked. There was a faint tone of mockery in her voice that made Jaime's courage falter for a heartbeat. He opened his mouth, and closed it again, unsure of how to start. Finally he found his tongue.

" _Lady Rohanne_ takes sail on the morrow. I came to say farewell,” he said in a low voice. He was afraid Cersei would reject him, or throw something at him. However, Cersei only gave him a little mocking smile.

"But Jaime,” she started, pretending to be confused, “we will say our farewells on the docks, with Mother and the little monster." Jaime chose to ignore her mention of Tyrion.

"I wanted to see you first,” he said, taking a few steps closer to his sister. Cersei's eyes narrowed, but the smile never left her lips. 

"So, you have,” said Cersei sweetly. "Farewell, brother.” Jaime felt the knot in his belly swiftly turning into anger. 

"Why are you so mean to me?" asked Jaime, his hands turning into fists. "It’s not like I'm going away for a fortnight. It could be years before we see each other again."

"Good,” said Cersei coolly. "Isn't that what you wanted?"

"I've never wanted to be away from you,” swore Jaime hotly, “and you know it, Cersei!"

"Do I? I only know you gave up, that you left me.” Her nostrils flared with anger. "I kept fighting, and even when I went to our bedchamber, you tried to send me away.  And I knew you'd come back to me, but it doesn't matter now. I don't care anymore." She turned her back to him and walked away, to sit in her chair. She turned her head as she threw the little paper on the table besides her. "And I don't love you anymore. You are free to go to Dorne, or to the ruins of Valyria for all I care." Tears were running down his sister's cheeks now, glistening under the sun's light. "Just go, and leave me alone. I don't want you here."

"I don't believe you,” said Jaime. He took a few steps, unsure, but finally resolved to sit beside his twin. Cersei turned her face away from him, but she did not push him or ask him to stay away from her. "If you want me to leave, why are you crying?"

"I'm not crying for you,” said Cersei, wiping her tears angrily. "I'm crying because I have to stay here, with the monster."

"You are lying,” said Jaime. He was so relieved to see that Cersei still cared for him that he almost felt guilty. He took Cersei's hand, and gave it a little squeeze. "I don't want to leave. I will miss you." Cersei met his eyes for a second, and turned her head away again.

"I will miss you too,” she said with a thin voice. Jaime hesitated a second, and finally resolved to hug his sister. At first Cersei froze, but after a few seconds she held Jaime as well. Jaime could feel his heart beating hard. He was wondering if he should tell Cersei something else, when the piece of parchment she was working on when he interrupted caught his eye.

"Who are they?" asked Jaime, taking the paper in his hands. Cersei drew what seemed to be a man and a woman riding a dragon. Surprisingly, Cersei blushed.

"Good Queen Alysanne and King Jahaerys,” she said quickly, taking the drawing from Jaime's hands.

"Oh,” he said, not knowing what else to add. He did not want to risk angering Cersei again. "Do you want to play Monsters-and-Maidens?" Cersei gave him a smile.

On the next day, as he carefully boarded the ship named after his grandfather's mother, Jaime turned his face to see the Rock and his sister one last time. In the songs, when the knight had to leave his lady to go on adventures, the lady always cried and swore to wait for his safe return. Cersei did not cry, but the smile she gave him when the _Lady Rohanne_ finally took wind was enough to warm Jaime's heart all the way to Dorne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Comments and kudos are, as ever, most welcome!  
> Love,  
> The Lady Clegane


	12. Cersei III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In an AU where Joanna Lannister doesn't die giving birth to Tyrion, how much would the history of Westeros would change? Long fic, begining in Tyrion's birth and following until The War of the Five Kings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, or any of the characters. Those belong to the amazing George RR Martin.

As the moonturns passed by, Cersei grew more and more accustomed to holding her head straight, as Father had bid her. As she did not have a crown to practice, she resolved to take some old books from the Rock's library and tried to walk around her solar, doing her best to keep them from falling off her head. When fat Jeyne first found out about it, she laughed and tried to make a game out of it, proposing that Melara and her should try as well, to see who could walk the longest around the solar. Cersei hadn't been pleased.  
  
Both girls arrived to the Rock a few days after Mother and Jaime left; Jeyne by ship, with a chest full of clothing and a few other belongings, and Melara by horse, with her father and one of her father's knights to guard her. Now, both fat Jeyne and bold Melara shared Cersei's lessons, meals, and even her bed. She had liked that even less, but when she tried to dismiss them, her aunt Genna had lectured her.  
  
"These girls are you mother's wards, highborn ladies brought here for your sake. And you intend to treat them like servants? You may be the daughter of their fathers' liege lord, but they deserve your respect. A young lady should know better than that. Even _queens_ are known to have ladies in waiting to keep them company." The meaningful look her aunt had given to her gave Cersei pause. Could Father have told her about her silver prince? Cersei did not know, but she could not bring herself to ask her aunt directly.

By the time Mother was back from Dorne, Cersei was accustomed to having the girls following her everywhere she went. Cersei liked to pretend the girls were part of her court, living in the Red Keep, among singers and knights. _And my prince. My future husband, the heir to the Seven Kingdoms. How beautiful our children will be._  
  
She liked Melara the best. The girl was clever, easy to laugh, and bold, maybe bolder than Cersei herself. She could spend the night under the blankets, telling Cersei and Jeyne scary stories, about monsters and ghosts and evil men, until she made Jeyne cry or Cersei bade her to stop. She always wanted to explore the Rock, sneaking into the dungeons or the dark mysterious corridors deep into the huge castle's loins.   
  
"But there are ghosts here,” said Jeyne, ever fearful.  "Angry ghosts, with clacking chains on their rotten wrists.” Melara had only laugh.  
  
"The only ghost that could be lingering here are my forebears,” said Cersei, unwilling to look craven. “And they would never harm me." When they finally walked into the dungeons, Melara had jumped behind Jeyne, taking hold of her. The girl had fled screaming as Cersei and Melara laughed. It took a few hours before the guards could find her, still crying and shaking, hidden in a cell that has been unoccupied for ages.  
  
Their little laugh had earned them a good scolding from aunt Genna and Mother, who made them ask the gods for forgiveness in the Golden Sept.  
  
"See that the girls pray until the hour of the owl,” said Mother to septa Jeyne. "Four hours, each one for every hour poor Jeyne was lost."

It did not matter. All of her mother's scolding did not matter anymore, not since Cersei found out she would be queen.  
  
"I will be Queen Rhaenys, and you can be my ladies in waiting,” would state Cersei, when they played at the Stone Garden.  
  
"Queen Rhaenys,” Melara would mock her, bowing her head. "It seems that you are missing your dragon. Pray tell me, where is Meraxes?”   
  
_I have a dragon, you fool. He lives at the Red Keep, and he plays a silver harp._ _  
_  
Cersei oft wondered what would happen after they were betrothed. Would she move to King's Landing with Father, or would she stay at the Rock until they were wed? Would they marry as soon as she flowered, or would they have to wait a few years?   
  
"When will I get my moonblood, septa?" asked Cersei, while she and the girls practiced their needlework. The woman looked quite shocked, but she answered all the same.  
  
"Most girls flower around their thirteenth nameday, but it can be as soon as they celebrate their twelfth nameday, or as late as their fifteenth.”  
  
"But not before?" asked Cersei, disappointed. She would turn ten on her next nameday.  
  
"Not before, my lady,” repeated the septa, before she resumed her needlework.   
  
_So many years..._

"Queen Cersei Targaryen,” mumbled Cersei to her pillow, with Melara sleeping by her side. It sounded silly, no matter how she say it. "Cersei Targaryen. King Rhaegar and Queen Cersei. Queen Cersei.” That she liked better. She licked her lips and tried again. "Queen Cersei.”  
  
"I thought you were supposed to be Queen Rhaenys,” said a voice behind her. Cersei jumped, startled. "But we are not in the Stone Garden anymore."  
  
"You scared me, stupid!" said Cersei, pushing Melara. The girl rubbed her eyes, sitting.  
  
"Well, you woke me up with all your noise,” said Melara, as impertinent as ever. "What was that about?" She felt her stomach turn. Cersei did not know how long Melara had been awake, but she was sure she would not stop teasing her until Cersei gave her an answer.  
  
"What do you mean?" she said, trying her best not to look nervous.  
  
"That thing you were mumbling,” Melara grinned. "Queen Cersei. Shall I call you Your Grace?”  
  
"It's non of your concern,” said Cersei sharply.  
  
"As Your Grace commands,” mocked Melara, bowing her head. Cersei could feel her anger rising.  
  
"Shut up, Melara!" she threw back. Cersei was very tempted to pull Melara's dark, common hair to erase her little grin from her freckled face, but her aunt’s warning gave her pause. And what if Melara told mother, and she told Lord Tywin? He was very clear with Cersei, and if he found out someone else knew about her prince...  
  
"And why does it bother you? You sounded quite happy about it,” she continued. Cersei tossed her golden braid over her shoulder.  
  
"If I tell you,” she started, “you promise you will keep my secret?" Melara's grin grew wider.  
  
"Of course. You can trust my silence, Your Grace"  


"Stop that!" said Cersei, looking nervously at the door. Ever since Jaime left her, Lady Joanna finally removed the guards from Cersei's bedchamber, but still... You could never know who is listening.

"Well?" pressed Melara, raising her eyebrows. 

_Where to begin?_

"I am to be betrothed,” she started, feeling her heart beating faster. _No, that wasn't right._ She took a deep breath and held her head straight, trying to sound as regal as possible. "My father, the Hand of the King, told me..." She took a little pause. _Yes, that's better._ "I'm to be betrothed to the prince. Prince Rhaegar Targaryen." The name made a smile come to her lips.

"To the prince?" asked Melara, a little too loudly. Cersei slapped her hand.

"Be quiet!" she hissed, as Melara rubbed the back of her hand. "No one can know, not until the king and my father make the announcement. You can't tell anyone, do you understand? Not even Jeyne." Melara snorted.

"I won't tell her. Your secret is safe, Your Grace." Cersei pushed her, but smiled despite herself.

_Your Grace._

_Queen Cersei._

_Will our children have green eyes, or the purple eyes of Valyria?_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this was a short one, but I hope you all liked it! Kudos and comments are always welcome!
> 
> Love, 
> 
> The Lady Clegane


	13. Jaime V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In an AU where Joanna Lannister doesn't die giving birth to Tyrion, how much would the history of Westeros would change? Long fic, begining in Tyrion's birth and following until The War of the Five Kings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, or any of the characters. Those belong to the amazing George RR Martin.

Jaime's chambers in the Old Palace had a huge window with a view to the Shadow City. Being used to the surreal height of the Rock, Old Palace really seemed, to Jaime, like a dwarf castle.  
  
_Nothing would ever be like the Rock._  
  
The day after the welcoming feast, Oberyn had taken Jaime around the castle, showing him every inch of it, from the Princess' solar at the Sun Tower, to the smallest and meanest of the cells in the dungeons.   
  
At least it was cool inside the Old Palace. The weather in Dorne was dry and terribly hot, way to hot for Jaime's clothes. Before the prince's wedding, his Lady Mother summoned a seamstress to make Jaime dornish styled flowing robes, more adequate for the cruel sun and sands of Dorne. Layered linen robes, silken undertunics, and snakeskin boots, all in Lannister crimson, fastened with roaring lions made of gold.  
  
As they rode to the Water Gardens, to attend Prince Doran's wedding, Jaime had a chance for the first time to wear his new clothes. At first, he felt quite stupid with the wisps of golden silk wrapped around his head, but later he would thank his Lady Mother for the wisdom: the Dornish sun was as mean as ever, and not even an hour after they left Old Palace Jaime realized that his skin, once as fair as Cersei's, would soon be tanned. Lady Joanna herself wore a thin veil made of green silk to keep the sand out of her eyes and mouth, a gift from the princess.    
  
A few hours later, they finally glimpsed the marbled walls of the Water Gardens. A knight dressed in yellow welcomed them.  
  
"That's my uncle Lewyn!" said Oberyn, before kicking the flanks of his horse and rushing to him. A few heartbeats later Elia followed him, calling for her uncle. The man climbed down of his stallion, and was already waiting for them with open arms. Oberyn jumped off his horse and hugged his uncle.  
  
"Oberyn,” greeted the man, smiling. Elia's horse soon reached them, and Prince Lewyn turned, taking Elia by the waist and spinning her. "Beautiful Elia!" said the man with a soft dornish accent, as he kissed Elia's cheek. By then, Jaime and the rest of the party had already reached them. Prince Lewyn put Elia down, and bowed his head. "Sweet sister,” he greeted, smiling at the princess. "Lady Joanna,” he said kissing her fingers courteously. "And this must be my new squire,” he added, turning to face Jaime.  
  
"Prince Lewyn,” said Lady Joanna, taking off her veil. "This is my firstborn, Jaime Lannister, heir to Casterly Rock.” Jaime bowed his head to the prince, awkwardly. "And this is Ser Tygett Lannister, my good brother and dear cousin." Uncle Tygett nodded to the prince silently.   
  
"Ser Tygett,” said the prince, fixing his half-helm. "Lord Edgar Yronwood announced he would be hosting a tourney in a moonsturn, to celebrate the birth of his first grandson. A small affair, really, but I'm sure he would be pleased to have a noble westerman on the lists."  
  
"I'm honored, my prince,” said Uncle Tyg. "But I'm afraid my cousin and I will stay in Dorne only for a fortnight."  
  
"My daughter and my youngest wait for me at Casterly Rock,” added mother, apologetically.  
  
"A pity, but we cannot hope to hold a mother who yearns for her children,” said Prince Lewyn with a broad smile.   
  
"Dear brother, we must continue,” interrupted Princess Loreza, “else the sun will cook us on our clothes.”  
  
"Yes, sweet sister.” The man turned to help Elia climb up her horse. "Doran and his bride are waiting for us."   
  
The day after their arrival, the wedding went swiftly, on the small sept of the Water Gardens. Lady Mellario herself looked lovely, a foreign beauty wrapped in odd clothes, even by dornish standards. The food at the feast was, as well, odd, full of weird tastes from Norvos, and spices from Dorne. Jaime could hardly eat a bite. On the high table, Doran was feeding Mellario from his own plate, bedazzled by his bride. By their side, one of the biggest men Jaime had ever seen watched over the newly weds, holding a great battle axe.   
  
"Who is that man?" asked Jaime, amazed.  
  
"He's called Areo Hotah,” said a voice behind him. Jaime turned to find Princess Elia smiling at him. The girl took a seat beside Jaime, pushing her brother Oberyn aside. "He is Lady Mellario's sworn shield." Jaime stood silent for a second, awkward. He had never been comfortable with girls, except for Cersei. He turned his head, looking for Oberyn's help, but the lad was japing with some older boys whose name Jaime did not know. Helpless, he faced the princess, wondering what to say.  
  
"I've never seen a man so..." he stopped, trying to find a word to describe him.  
  
"...Black? Big? Intimidating?" offered Elia, and laughed. "Neither have I. I was with Mellario yesterday, and she told me he was some kind of warrior priest, from Norvos."  
  
"The bearded priests,” said Jaime, trying to remember what maester Creylen had told him about them. "They wed their weapons, and are sworn to serve for life."  
  
"Yes, something akin to our Kingsguard or the Night's Watch.” The girl took her brother's cup right from his hands, and took a sip of wine from it. Oberyn just gave her an exasperated look that Elia ignored. "Mellario told me as well he speaks the common tongue, and that I could go and talk to him if I wanted to, but he couldn't understand what I was saying.” _Small wonder why._ The dornishmen spoke so quickly that sometimes even Jaime had a hard time trying to make out their words. "Have you seen the pools yet?" asked Elia, suddenly.   
  
"No I haven’t,” said Jaime, moving his food carelessly around his plate. The lamb he had tried to eat was so spicy that he did not dare to take another bite. "Oberyn told me we would go on the morrow."  
  
"Do you want to see them? They are so beautiful at sunset, especially now that they're not plagued with children." Jaime almost smiled at that. Elia was so small, he forgot she was two and ten, almost a woman grown. "Well?" she asked, raising her dark eyebrows.   
  
"My mother told me to stay at the Great Hall,” said Jaime, dubious.   
  
"Mine told us the same,” answered Elia, pointing to Oberyn and then at herself. "But it is not like we are going to be missed, is it?" Jaime looked around. His lady mother was chatting happily with the Princess, and all their guards were either getting drunk, or kissing serving women. No one would realize he was leaving.  
  
"Well then,” he whispered, and Elia smiled. She raised a single finger and placed it to her lips.  
  
"Follow me. Don't let my lady mother see us." With no other warning, Elia slipped under the table. Jaime took a look around, nervous, but nobody seemed to notice that the little dornish princess had just vanished. "What are you waiting for?" urged Elia, pulling Jaime's sleeve. _My father would kill me_ , thought Jaime, before slipping beside Elia. A labyrinth of feet loomed before them, and a few dogs as well, looking for scraps on the floor. Elia was at his left, already crawling to the other end of the table. Jaime took a last look back, and begin to follow her. They stopped only for a few seconds, waiting until some dornish guards passed in front of the table; Elia took Jaime by the sleeve and ran through a small door and into a narrow hall. By the exotic smell, Jaime suspected it was the servants' access between the kitchen and the Great Hall.  
  
"Now, help me up,” Elia ordered in a low voice, looking behind her shoulder. Jaime took a glance at the small window Elia intended to reach, before joining up his fingers to offer her a foot. The girl climbed to the window with a smooth motion that spoke of practice. Once up, Elia turned to help Jaime climb. _She must do this all the time with Oberyn._ Jaime took Elia's hand and jumped. "Be quick!" she whispered. Jaime was still half way up when Elia jumped off the window, landing on the grass with a little thump. Jaime followed her, noticing the sudden change of smell. The earthy and moist scent of the gardens filled Jaime's nose, as well as a little chill. It amazed Jaime how Dorne's weather could be so different at night.   
  
"See?" said Elia, fixing her braid. "Easiest thing in the world." She smiled and began to walk, with Jaime at her heels.  
  
"Do you do this often?" asked Jaime, as they walked by a lemon tree.  
  
"Not as often as I used to," said Elia. "It has been a long time since Oberyn and I last jumped out of that window." She gave Jaime a smile. "But feasts bore me, and you seemed a little lost. We are almost there," informed Elia, walking a little faster. A few steps after, Jaime found himself standing before one of the most beautiful places he had ever seen. The pale marble seemed silver under the moonlight, and the sweet scent of the ripe blood oranges filled the air. The water in the fountains and pools was perfectly still, and Jaime could hear the soft sound of the Summer Sea. "What do you think?" asked Elia.  
  
"Your mother's palace is beautiful," said Jaime.  
  
"It was built for a Targaryen princess who came to marry the Prince of Dorne. Daenerys, she was called. Have you ever heard about her?" asked Elia.  
  
"Not really," said Jaime, a little embarrassed.   
  
"She was part of a pact, to bring Dorne into your Seven Kingdoms, but she was sad and lonely, so the prince built her this palace to make her happy."  
  
"Did it work?" Elia smiled at that.  
  
"I should think so. They had a bunch of children." Jaime smiled back.  
  
"Your mother is looking for you," said a voice behind them. Jaime turned at the sound, to face his uncle Tygett.  "As well as yours, Princess."  
  
"Good evening, ser," greeted Elia, blushing slightly. "I was just showing Jaime the Water Gardens."  
  
"They are beautiful," said uncle Tyg, courteously. "But you both better go back to the Great Hall. The bedding is about to begin." Elia a gave high pitched little scream, and turned to Jaime.  
  
"I must go," she told him, before bowing quickly to uncle Tyg "Thank you, ser" she added, before running back to the castle. Only after the echo of her steps faded away, Jaime turned to ask his uncle:  
  
"How did you know we were here?"  
  
"I saw you sneaking out," said the man simply. Jaime smiled at him. His uncle might be a ferocious warrior, but he had always been good with Jaime. "Let's go back, Jaime. Your mother is worried sick."  
  
  
A fortnight after the wedding, Lady Joanna and uncle Tygett bid Jaime farewell, right before the _Lady Rohanne_ took sail, back to Casterly Rock. This time, Jaime did not have to fight the tears. He felt oddly calm, despite being now truly apart from his family.   
  
Now Jaime took his lessons with Maester Caleotte, Elia and Oberyn, and was finally learning the dornish fighting style, under the critical eye of the ferocious Ser Ulwyck Uller.   
  
"You keep forgetting it is no sword that you are holding, young Jaime,” said Ser Ulwyck with a thick dornish accent, after Oberyn sent him to the dirt for the third time. "This is no heavy longsword, this is a spear!" said the big man, tapping the dirt with his own longspear to mark his words. "A spear will not only help you reach your opponent from a longer distance, but it will help you move faster, if you know how to use it."  
  
"It’s not that hard,” said Oberyn in a low voice, helping him up. His last blow had bloodied Jaime's lip. "Use your shield, and listen to Ser Ulwyck. There is no better knight in my mother's land." Jaime wiped the blood with the back of his hand, and nodded.  
  
"One more time!" bellowed Ser Ulwyck, and Jaime charged once again against Oberyn.  
  
"I think you are doing well,” said Elia later that day, as they waited for Maester Caleotte to see Jaime's lip.  
  
"Thank you,” said Jaime, a little sarcastically. Elia laughed.  
  
"Oberyn has been training with the longspear since he was old enough to walk,” she said cheerfully, “and you had never held one before you came to Sunspear."  
  
Jaime's nameday went by, and the tourney of Yronwood was in a few days. Oberyn had begged Princess Loreza to let them go. The princess finally agreed, but forbade Oberyn any attempt to participate.   
  
"And believe me, if I hear anything about a mystery knight, or I suspect you disobeyed me, you will spend what's left of summer as Doran's cupbearer,” warned the princess, before they left. Oberyn had only smiled.   
  
As they marched among the dusty and dry dornish land, Prince Lewyn would tell Jaime and Oberyn stories about tourneys and wars long won, and his own part during the war of the Ninepenny kings.   
  
"My lord Father fought as well,” interrupted Jaime. "He fought besides Lord Baratheon, and King Aerys."  
  
"And he had the honor of knighting the king, once the battle was won,” added Prince Lewyn, smiling to Jaime.   
  
 "Did you meet the Blackfish?" asked Oberyn, excitingly.   
  
"Only once,” said the prince. "A great knight, and a clever commander."  
  
"Tell us about him,” begged Jaime, and the prince obliged.  
  
Jaime had grown fond of the prince. He was a warrior, and he intimidated Jaime way less than Princess Loreza. Besides, he loved to talk about his past deeds, something Jaime and Oberyn were always more than willing to hear.   
  
When they finally met the gates of Yronwood, Jaime took his place as Prince Lewyn's squire for good. He was supposed to raise his pavilion, fetch his meals, attend to his clothes and armor, and whatever he needed; however, Lord Yronwood had received Prince Lewyn and his companions into the castle, due to his noble blood. That meant that Jaime's responsibilities were reduced to help Prince Lewyn done his armor and hand him his weapons whenever he rode in the jousts.   
  
Oberyn waited for Jaime every time, and would tell him about the Prince's opponents, and the other jousters.   
  
"That one is Lord Harmen Uller, ser Ulwyck's older brother,” he would explain, pointing to a hairy big knight. "He's lord of Hellholt. There is a saying ‘Half of the Ullers are half mad, and the other half are worse.’ Princess Nymeria's second husband was an Uller. They fought side by side, against the Yronwood, during Nymeria's war,” he added in a low voice. Lord Uller's lance crashed against his opponent's shield, reducing it to splinters. The nameless knight hit the dirt with a thump, and his own squire rushed to help him up. As soon as he was on his feet, another knight on a magnificent dornish stallion rode in. “And that one you know. Lord Edgar." Jaime nodded. The Lord of Yronwood was a blond man, thick of waist and with broad shoulders, well past forty. The audience cheered and roared, yelling something Jaime could not make out.  
  
"What are the people saying?" he asked.  
  
"They are calling him Bloodroyal,” informed Oberyn. "It's an old title, from the time when the Yronwoods were kings.” The man rode, greeting the mob with his lance, gold-tipped and painted silver with pale yellow stripes. He had a wisp of pale blue silk knotted about an arm. _A favor from his wife_ , thought Jaime. Lord Harmen waited for him across the field, watching the Bloodroyal showing off to the mob. He did not seem to end, to Jaime's exasperation, and certainly to Lord Harmen's as well. "He always does that,” said Oberyn, looking bored. Lord Edgar was finally taking his place on the field. "It bothers and angers most of the knights, making them charge without thinking as soon as they are ready.” A horn sounded, and both men drove their spurs into the flanks of their horses. Jaime heard wood crashing and soon Lord Edgar was flying from his seat, only to land on his back. Someone cried, and soon a young woman rushed to Lord Edgar's side. "I told you,” said Oberyn, with half a smile, “never anger an Uller." Jaime could see the wisdom in that. The maester was now beside the woman, helping Lord Edgar sit. "Who's the lady?" asked Jaime. Oberyn smile grew broader.   
  
"She's Natari Sand, Lord Wyl’s bastard daughter, and the Bloodroyal's paramour,” he said, amused.   
  
"Oh,” Jaime did not know what to say. His own grandsire used to keep a mistress, after his wife died in childbirth. Cersei once heard a guard saying she was a candlemaker's daughter, who grew too bold and powerful, until Lord Tywin put an end to it. He knew how mistresses were handled in the Westerlands, but in this strange land of Dorne, other customs ruled. The lass was a pretty thing, small and fair, with auburn curls well down to her waist, shining against a pale blue gown. Only then Jaime realized that the favor Lord Edgar was wearing was not from his lady wife.  
  
_The dornishmen are truly mad._  
  
Lord Harmen was now the favorite to win the tourney, until he faced young ser Arthur Dayne. He ended up unhorsing not only Lord Harmen, but Prince Lewyn as well. His sister, the lovely Ashara Dayne, cheered the loudest when he was named champion.   
  
"A great knight,” granted Prince Lewyn, when he joined Oberyn and Jaime at the feast.  
  
"And soon a great white cloak,” added Oberyn. Prince Lewyn hushed him. "Is it true, then?" asked Oberyn, excited.  
  
"There is a rumour,” said Prince Lewyn lowly. “Nothing is yet confirmed, so don't go around spreading tales,” he finished, messing Oberyn's hair. "That includes you, young Jaime,” he said with a smile.   
  
"A white cloak?" asked Elia, back in Old Palace. "Arthur Dayne?"  
  
"Who better than him?" said Oberyn. As soon as they reached the Old Palace, he and Jaime had rushed to Elia's chamber to tell her the news.  
  
"The Tyrells will not like that,” said Elia sharply.  
  
"Why wouldn't they?" asked Jaime, feeling lost. Elia gave him a meaningful look.  
  
"The place Ser Arthur would take was for Ser Androw Ashford. He died in his sleep, not a moonturn past."  
  
"So?"  
  
"Reachmen and dornishmen don't get along too well. The Tyrells may take ill King Aerys’ decision to replace a knight from the Reach with a knight from Dorne."  
  
"The White Bull is Lord Commander,” said Oberyn, “and he was born a Hightower. That should suffice for Lord Tyrell."  
  
"What should and what will suffice for Lord Tyrell is not the same,” threw back Elia, and Oberyn rolled his eyes.   
  
Not half a fortnight past, a raven found his way into the Old Palace's rookery, informing them that Ser Arthur Dayne would be granted a white cloak. However, Elia did not have the time to argue again with Oberyn about what Lord Tyrell may think. Soon after the raven, a messenger arrived from the Water Gardens, announcing Lady Mellario was with child. Elia was besides herself with happiness.  
  
"A nephew, or a niece, Oberyn!" she yelled in the yard, as Jaime and Oberyn trained. Oberyn turned, distracted, and Jaime's spear hit his legs. Oberyn fell on his back, to Elia's amusement.   
  
"Stop that!" said Oberyn, as Jaime offered him a hand, laughing. He shook the dust off his clothes, angrily. He did not like when Jaime bested him. "That was not fair, I was distracted with your stupid yelling,” he reproached Elia.   
  
"And what about yesterday?" asked Jaime, smiling. Elia was still laughing, her future nephew forgotten for a moment.   
  
"Careful, Lannister,” warned Oberyn, “or else I may decide to stop going easy on you.”  
  
"Oh, shut up, Oberyn!" said Elia.  
  
"One more time?" offered Jaime, taking position. Oberyn smiled wickedly, as Elia took a few steps back to watch them.  
  
"Now!" yelled Oberyn, as Jaime blocked his spear with his own shield.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone! This is, I belive, the chapter I've liked the best. It was really fun to write, and I hope you like it as much as I did. All you comments are most welcome!
> 
> Love
> 
> The Lady Clegane


	14. Joanna VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In an AU where Joanna Lannister doesn't die giving birth to Tyrion, how much would the history of Westeros would change? Long fic, begining in Tyrion's birth and following until The War of the Five Kings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, or any of the characters. Those belong to the amazing George RR Martin.
> 
>  
> 
> Author's note: Things get a little bit tricky here. The timeline in this chapter overlaps with the last one, Jaime V. Some of the chapters from now one will be simultaneous; I'll try and let you know you whenever this happens. Enjoy Joanna VI! You know, comments and kudos are always welcome!

Leaving Jaime alone in Dorne was one of the hardest things Joanna ever did in her life. Her little lion waved farewell to her from the decks, his golden mane shinning among dark haired dornishmen. Despite all his begging and crying back at Casterly Rock, Jaime hadn't shed a single tear as he watched her leaving. Joanna did not know if that was a good sign.

By the time they reached Casterly Rock, a raven found his way into the rookery. And Joanna knew it wasn't a good sign, even less when another raven arrived shortly after the first one.  Her cousin Tygett was the one who gave her the news.

"A raven arrived at night, says Creylen.” _Dark wings, dark words_. "A letter from King's Landing, sealed with a blob of red Targaryen wax, announcing the birth of the new prince. Not long after, before the hour of the wolf, a second raven found its way into Creylen's cell. This one was sealed with golden wax, from your husband." Joanna said nothing. Tygett paused, staring at his cousin. His eyes were Lannister green, but a darker shade than Tywin's eyes. "Would you like to read it yourself?" 

Joanna shook her head.  "Just tell me, what my husband commands.”

"A tournament, to celebrate Prince Viserys' birth." _Viserys Targaryen, the new prince of the Seven Kingdoms. The queen gave birth to a son, and now my daughter's future is sealed as well in red wax, her hand to be promised to Aerys' firstborn and heir._ "The whole court is to come, including the king and all the great lords of the realm. It will take place by the end of the year." Joanna somehow found the strength to nod.

A conspiracy of ravens took flight the next day, to deliver an invitation to highborn and lowborn alike to participate in the tournament. Joanna watched as the birds flew away from the rookery; a dark cloud slowly fading in the sky.

"It seems that the gods heard my brother's prayers,” said Genna, whose belly was now round and big. "Not that he prays, mind you, but we may see our little lioness married to a prince of royal blood in a few years." Joanna simply nodded. Genna's feelings about Tywin's plans for Cersei were very different from Joanna. She believed it had something to do with the fact that Genna's marriage had been an inferior one, a match born out of Lord Tytos’ weakness. In dear Genna's eyes, Cersei's marriage could only mean a bright future. Joanna was not so certain.

On one thing Genna was right, though. The little wards, Melara and Jeyne, did keep Cersei occupied. The three girls spent their days playing and plotting little adventures, running wildly and loudly in the Rock. Septa Jeyne soon acquired deep purple bags under her eyes, and grew thinner everyday that passed by. An annoying cough now became part of the septa, who now had a hard time lecturing Cersei without being interrupted by a fit of coughs. Joanna used to believe the girls were to blame; if the septa could barely handle willful Cersei, three girls must have been a true challenge for the poor woman. However, the septa had come to Maester Creylen, claiming some sickness had taken her. Not a fortnight after, the woman had coughed herself to death in her cell.

_Maybe a younger septa could succeed where Jeyne failed_ , thought Joanna. She had sent a messenger to a sisters' house, asking for a new septa to replace Septa Jeyne. _She was too old to deal with Cersei._ The sisters' house sent the septa back with the messenger; a sweet girl who had seen at most twenty namedays, called Septa Saranella. Cersei had received the woman with the same contempt she used with Septa Jeyne, but at least the yelling had decreased. Saranella was less inclined to argue with Cersei, instead choosing to ignore her whenever she grew too insolent. Whatever the method, it seemed to work for the septa. Despite herself, Cersei and her little companions were now learning to dance and sew, as well as High Valyrian and their letters with Maester Creylen.

_Maybe I should find some boys as well, for Tyrion,_ thought Joanna. _But no, it is too soon._ Tyrion was her babe still, babbling and exploring the nursery with his short little legs. _In a few years, perhaps._

When Genna's pregnancy reached her eighth moonturn, Joanna invited her good sisters, Dorna and Darlessa, to her solar, to help Genna sew clothes for her soon to be born child. Tyrion was there as well, running around and chasing invisible monsters with his wooden toy sword, a gift from Tygett. Tyrion was mad for it. He carried the toy everywhere, attempting to duel with the guards and the men-at-arms. To think that the tiny sword might be the only sword Tyrion would ever wield broke Joanna's heart.

But none of that mattered now. Tyrion attacked the curtains, hitting them with his little sword fiercely as he yelled some nonsense war cry. _Tygett has been telling him tales again_ , thought Joanna, smiling for herself. Despite his steel heart when it came to battle and war, Tygett had a soft spot in his heart for his nephews. The wetnurse had told Joanna that Tygett oft visited Tyrion in the nursery, accompanied by little Cleos, and would tell both children tales of knightly valor. _He does like children. He would do well to marry Darlessa soon, and have a child by her_. Young Darlessa was a the moment sewing stockings for Genna's unborn child in silence. _That may make her happier._

"Too few women, if you ask me,” stated Genna, who was talking to Dorna. "But with my dear cousin Stafford leaving for King's Landing, Myranda should be joining us soon. Or so I hope. Stafford claims she's with child again, did I tell you?" said Genna, turning to face Joanna. Tyrion passed running besides Genna, slashing wildly with his sword. He missed his aunt's face by a few inches.

"Tyrion, careful with that sword!" warned Joanna. The child simply kept running, and Joanna sighed, before returning her attention to Genna. "I did not know.” Her brother's wife had two children: a boy a couple of years younger than her twins, Daven, and a little girl of four, Cerenna. _If Myranda has a girl, we could marry her to Tyrion._ Joanna wondered if her brother would agree, if only for fear of offending Tywin.

"Stafford did not wanted her to travel, but I told him it was nonsense,” said Genna, waving her hand. "Lannisport is so close that Myranda could walk to the Rock, but I would bet that woman is whispering in my cousin's ear again.”

"What woman?" asked young Dorna, curiously.

"My uncle's bastard daughter,” said Genna. She closed her eyes, trying to remember. "Joanna, be a dear and remind me, what's your father's bastard called?" Joanna fixed her eyes on the piece she was sewing, uncomfortable. 

Dorna reddened, ashamed.  "I'm sorry, my lady,” she blurted. "I did not..."

"There is no harm done,” interrupted Joanna. "She was born when my father was very young, before he married my mother. Her name is Lynora,” she said simply.

"Lynora, of course,” agreed Genna. "She has always been overly protective. Not that she cares at all for Myranda, but she loves Stafford and his children dearly, and Stafford certainly loves her too, else he wouldn't have her by his side, and helping Myranda with the children."

"Stafford would do better to find himself a septa,” said Joanna. "A bastard is not fit to raise my brother's children."

"Yes, but Stafford has always had more heart than sense,” she stated. "Beware when you get a child of your own, good sisters,” she warned, waving her needle in Dorna and Darlessa's direction. "When it comes to your children, the trick is to let your husband think he's making all the big decisions, when it's really you who are shaping and raising them. Else, they end up being as foolish as their fathers." Joanna smiled despite herself, and Dorna giggled.

"My lady,” said one of Joanna's guards, “your cousin Gerion is without.” Joanna nodded, and the guard moved aside to let Gerion past.

"Gery!" cried Tyrion, happily running towards his uncle.  
  
"There is my little man!" said Gerion, picking Tyrion up. "Why are you here disturbing the ladies, Tyrion?" He threw the child on the air, making Tyrion laugh. "And what is this?" he asked, taking the little sword.

"Is mine!" said Tyrion, trying to get his sword back. 

Gerion laughed and gave the child his toy. "I see! You are protecting the ladies?"

"Yes" said Tyrion, smiling proudly.

"Very good! Your brother will be very proud when he sees you.” He put the child back on the carpet, and Tyrion began to run around once more, until Darlessa intercepted him.

"Where are you going, brave ser?" the girl asked, tickling him. Tyrion laughed and tried to free himself from his little aunt.

"If I were you I would stop before the child wets himself, Darlessa,” warned Genna, smiling.

"Give your aunt a kiss, my love,” said Joanna. The child smiled and gave Darlessa a clumsy kiss on the cheek.

"Joanna,” called Gerion, walking towards her, "I need to talk to you." 

Genna turned her head, and sighed. "You heard Gerion, good sisters. It is time for us to leave." Darlessa rose from her chair, with Tyrion still in her arms, as Dorna helped Genna stand.

"Do you want me to take the child to the nursery, Joanna?" asked Darlessa.

"Best if you do,” said Gerion, before Joanna could answer. Darlessa turned to face Joanna, who nodded. 

_Too serious. Gerion is too serious._ Could something have happened to Jaime? Joanna raised a prayer to the Mother, suddenly worried for her golden cub.

"Come with me, Tyrion,” said Darlessa to the child, who was now desperate to stay with his mother. "Do you want some honeycakes?" That caught Tyrion's attention.

"Thank you, Darlessa,” said Joanna, as the girl walked out of the solar, followed by Genna and Dorna. Joanna waited a few hearbeats before asking her cousin, "What is it, Gerion?" The man sat in Genna's chair, and pushed his golden hair out of his face. "Has something happened? Is my son alright?" Gerion looked at her, confused.

"Jaime is perfectly fine,” he said. "You don't have to worry about him"

"And what should I worry about?" she asked, thanking the Mother.

"Joanna... I really did not want to be the one to talk to you about this, but Tygett refused completely to do it, and it would have not been right to let the maester tell you.” He reached inside his sleeve, and pulled out a letter. _Golden wax, once more. Will I ever get a letter from my husband again?_ "You know my brother better than anyone, Joanna.” He scratched his head "He has always been a difficult man. He wrote about the tournament, how we are to proceed. You know, the usual nonsense. The prizes, who is to stay in The Rock, where to raise the pavilions and the fields for the melees and jousting. He also gave instructions about Tyrion." 

Joanna straightened her head. ”Of course he did,” said Joanna, bitterly. "Does he mean to hide him again, as he did with Loree? Tell me, does Tywin truly believe the Seven Kingdoms are unaware of the existence of my child?"

"Don't get mad at me, Joanna,” said Gerion, uncomfortable. "I'm just the messenger. You know I love Tyrion, as much as Tygett does. Genna and the girls, as well."

"But my husband doesn't."

"Joanna, please..."

"I am sorry, Gerion,” said Joanna, “but I will not send my boy away. You can tell the maester to write back to Tywin." 

Gerion looked quite alarmed. "Joanna..."

"No,” she interrupted, her tone cooler than she intended. "I will not send him away, Gerion. And I don't care what Tywin makes of it." 

Gerion looked around, helpless. He sighed, and massaged his temple. "This isn't going to end well, cousin,” he tried "You know my brother. He doesn't take defiance lightly. He won't, even from you."

"What can he do?" Joanna laughed, despite herself. "I'm his lady wife."

"There is much and more a man can do to his wife, if she displeases him,” insisted Gerion. Joanna felt pity for him. Her cousin looked sincerely concerned about her. "Remember Queen Naerys?" Joanna shook her head, dismissing the thought.

"Do not worry about me, Gerion,” said Joanna, giving his cousin a sad smile. "We can always hope this tournament will distract Tywin enough for us to get away unpunished." _And later the euphoria over Cersei's betrothal will keep him away from the Rock, at least for a few moonturns._ Gerion sighted, pushing his golden mane back.

"Creylen is going to wet himself when I tell him what to write back to Tywin,” he ventured, and Joanna laughed.

"I'm truly sorry I'm dragging you all into this trouble,” said Joanna, still smiling to her cousin.

"Bah!" Gerion waved his hand. "Tywin has already been disappointed by us since the day we were born. Well, except for Kevan,” he clacked his tongue. "But he has always liked to go around smelling Tywin's farts, begging your pardon." He sighed again, and rose from the chair. "Maybe he's the smart one. I will tell Creylen to make the arrangements, then." He took Joanna's hand in his own and gave it a courteous kiss. "Please, Joanna, be careful what you do."

"I will be alright, dear cousin,” said Joanna with an encouraging smile. "Do not forget, I'm a Lannister as well."


	15. Cersei IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In an AU where Joanna Lannister doesn't die giving birth to Tyrion, how much would the history of Westeros change? Long fic, begining in Tyrion's birth and following until The War of the Five Kings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone! It's been a while. The last month have been crazy for me, but please do not think I have forgotten about you. This is a short one, but I promise the story will move faster from now on. I hope you enjoy the new chapter!
> 
>  
> 
> I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, or any of the characters. Those belong to the amazing George RR Martin.

The king and the whole court arrived only a couple of days after Father. Cersei was beyond herself with happiness, her heart fluttering with excitement. It was like she had fallen into a dream, a dream she would never want to wake from.  
  
She had visited Lannisport before, but she could not remember it being this beautiful, so full of color and music. The port was bursting with ships as she had never seen it before, from beautiful swan ships from the Summer Islands, to black fat-bellied whaling ships from the strange land of Ibb. As she walked on the cheerful streets with Jeyne and Melara, under the keen eye of Septa Saranella, everything seemed to be alive. Bards were everywhere, singing songs that spoke of chivalry, and the deeds of famous knights long dead. Tyroshi captains with dyed beards argued with innkeepers, asking for a lower price; Summer Islanders with skin as black as coal and feathered cloaks, slim Braavosi with slender swords, big and hairy Ibbenese brutes, and knights from all Westeros, highborn and lowborn alike, walking around in full armor, displaying their arms and colors.  
  
Jaime had arrived by ship, along with Oberyn and the Princess' brother, two days before Prince Rhaegar. Cersei had seen her brother at the feast, surrounded by dornish knights. He had approached Cersei, talking some nonsense about the new dornish princess, but Cersei barely heard him. Prince Rhaegar was sitting beside his father, only a few seats from Cersei. He was so beautiful she could hardly breath. _He's mine_ , thought Cersei, her heart beating faster. _He will be king, and after we wed he will be mine._  
  
When Lord Tywin sent her uncle Kevan to get her, she thought she would faint. She left Jaime with Melara, and approached her father to be introduced to the prince.  
  
"Such a lovely lady,” greeted the prince, kissing Cersei's fingers courteously. She smiled and bowed, unable to take her eyes off his, keeping her head straight as Father had bid her.    
  
"My prince,” she managed when she finally found her tongue. Prince Rhaegar smiled kindly at her, before turning to talk to Ser Arthur Dayne.  
  
"You did perfectly well,” said her aunt Genna with a smile. When Cersei took her seat again, Jaime was gone. Melara gave her a meaningful look, before bowing her head almost imperceptibly to Cersei, who pinched her under the table.  
  
"I told you to stop that,” she said in a low voice, smiling to the girl despite herself.  
  
Afterwards, he had taken his silver-stringed harp, and played such a melancholic and beautiful song, that soon Cersei, among most of the women in the Great Hall, had her eyes full of tears.  
  
 _He has been wounded,_ thought Cersei, wiping her tears away, _but I will mend his hurt when we are wed. I will give him beautiful sons, with silver manes and purple eyes, and we shall rule the Seven Kingdoms together._  
  
She went to bed that night dreaming of her prince, and the crown he would give her as a wedding present.  
  
"Your brother told me he may joust in the tourney,” said Melara, lying beside Cersei. "He wanted to participate in the meleé, but the Prince Lewyn would not let him."  
  
"Who?" asked Cersei, annoyed.  
  
"The dornish prince,” said Melara. "I did not know your brother was so gallant." Cersei rolled her eyes. "And he knows how to fight in the dornish style. I've never seen a dornishmen fight before."  
  
"He's not a dornishman,” jumped Cersei. "He's a Lannister of Casterly Rock.”  
  
"You know what I meant,” apologized Melara. "Jeyne told me there is a witch, a fortune teller of sorts, here, at Lannisport,” she added quickly, clearly wanting to change the subject.  
  
"A fortune teller?" Melara nodded, her eyes full of mischief.  
  
"She can see the future,” she giggled. "I told Jeyne we should go to her.”  
  
"I don't need her to tell me my destiny,” said Cersei, sharply. "I already know I'll marry the prince, and be queen." Melara sat on the bed.  
  
"Wouldn't you like to know how many children you and the prince will have?" she asked, smiling. That gave Cersei pause, as Melara soon noticed. "Come on, Cersei!" she begged. "We can escape Septa Saranella on the morrow!” Cersei considered it for a heartbeat.  
  
"Where is this witch?" she asked, skeptical.  
  
"She lives in the woods,” informed Melara, excited. "She's called Maggy. Maggy the Frog.”  
  
"Alright,” said Cersei, and Melara clapped her hands with excitement. "We will go to her. But, please, now stay quiet. I want to sleep." Melara nodded silently, a smile broad on her lips.

 

* * *

  
The woods rushed to meet Cersei, as she and Melara ran, leaving the screams and curses of the old witch behind them.  
  
 _It was a mistake_ , thought Cersei. _Stupid Melara, it was her fault. This was a terrible mistake._  
  
They ran and ran, until they could not hear Maggy anymore. By then, Cersei's breath was fast, and her feet hurt inside her boots.  
  
"Wait for me!" yelled Cersei, trying to catch her breath. Melara was still running, but she froze when she heard Cersei's voice, turning sheepishly "It's alright. We are far enough,” she added, wiping the sweat off her brow. _I will need a bath. I cannot let the prince see me like this._  
  
The girl approached Cersei. She was sweaty as well, her face reddened by the effort.  
  
"We should have never visited the witch,” said Melara. She sounded close to tears, and looked even worse. Cersei herself felt quite distressed.  
  
"Of course we shouldn't have!" she yelled "You and your stupid idea." Melara fixed her eyes on her feet, and Cersei turnedangrily. The old witch, old ugly Maggy the Frog. She had tasted her blood, and spoke of her destiny.

"We should never speak of it,” suggested Melara with a thin voice. "If you forget about a prophecy, it doesn't come true.” Cersei stared at her, weighing her words. It sounded almost the wise thing to do. She had not liked what the crone had told to her, not a single bit; a lot of confusing things, some even scary.  
  
"That's what we will do,” she declared, trying her best to sound confident. "We will go back to Lannisport, before anyone notices we were gone." Melara bit her lip and nodded. "Come. It will be alright." Both girls began to walk, with no other sound but the leaves crushing under their feet. _I need to get back to The Rock_ , thought Cersei. _There I will be safe, far from this ugly witch and her curses. You lying, treacherous old hag._  
  
Lost in her thoughts as she was, it took Cersei a few moments to realize Melara wasn't walking besides her anymore. She turned, annoyed, only to find Melara standing way behind her.  
  
"Melara, come here!" she commanded. She didn't like these woods. Cersei wanted to be away from it as soon as she could.  
  
And then Melara broke into tears, shaking furiously.  
  
"What is it?" asked Cersei, feeling suddenly impatient.  
  
"I just... I..." sobbed Melara, choking on her own voice.  
  
"Is this about you not marrying Jaime?" asked Cersei, confused and annoyed. It seemed that Melara had fallen in love with Jaime, to Cersei's great annoyance "You know you cannot hope to marry him,” she started, taking a step closer to Melara. _Should I comfort her?_ "Your father is only a landed knight, my father would never allow it, and besides..."  
  
"Is not about Jaime,” interrupted Melara, her voice strangely high-pitched, meeting Cersei's eyes. Her own brown eyes were puffed and reddened "The old witch... She said I'm going to die soon,” she finished with a small voice, sobbing. Cersei stared at her, confused. "I can't Cersei... We should tell your Lord Father,” she begged, trying to reach her hand. Cersei took a step back, and Melara's fingers closed in the empty air "Please, Cersei. What if she tries to hurt us?"  
  
"She wouldn’t dare,” said Cersei, feeling her heart beating hard. "She's just an old hag, what could she do?"  
  
"I don't know!" yelled Melara. "I'm so scared, Cersei... Please, if you are truly my friend..."she kept sobbing, but all could Cersei hear was her own heart beating in her ears.  
 _  
Melara will never keep quiet._  
  
And the tourney... what if she broke down at the middle of the feast? Right before Father proposed the match to the king?  
  
 _I cannot allow it. Not in front of the prince, not in front of Father._  
  
Cersei took a look around her. Everything she could see were the infinite trees, and a lonely abandoned well a few steps away from them.  
  
 _There is no one who could help us here. No one who could help her._  
  
Cersei stared at the girl, who was crying in the dirt. Her hair was all tangled and messed up, where she had pulled her hair while crying.  
  
 _There is nothing I can do for her._  
  
Melara kept sobbing pitifully, and her cries seemed to grow louder every second. She was driving Cersei mad.    
  
 _She's only a landed knight's daughter._ _  
_  
Cersei took a deep breath, and walked back to Melara. She knelt besides her, and hugged the girl.  
  
"Is alright”, she said, feeling Melara's body shaking uncontrollably. "It’s alright... We will talk to my father, as soon as we reach Lannisport,” she declared, and Melara sobbed even harder. "I need you to stop crying now, so we can walk back to Lannisport. I cannot go back there as long as you cry. I don't want every stableboy to see you like this,” she added. Melara nodded, hiccuping. She had snot in her nose, and when she tried to wipe her tears, more rushed unbidden to her eyes. Cersei felt disgusted by her.  
  
"Can you stop crying?"  
  
"Yes,” she managed between sobs. Cersei raised herself from the ground, and shook the leaves off her skirts.  
  
"Stand up. I don't want to stay here any longer,” she said, offering her hand to Melara. The girl looked at her, and accepted her hand. Cersei could feel the wetness from her tears and snot in her fingers, and felt sick for a second. She wiped her hand on her skirts. "Stop crying now. And walk with me, I don't want you to stay back again.” Melara nodded again, and followed Cersei.  
   
Cersei could feel her heart beating hard in her chest. Melara walked besides her, looking at the dirt, still sobbing softly.  
  
The well was so close...  
  
Without a second thought, Cersei turned quickly and pushed the girl against the rocks that surrounded the broken well. Melara screamed, and her eyes met Cersei's for a second with astonishment and fear, moving her hands wildly. She tried to get ahold of Cersei, who jumped back and fell to the dirt. A muffled splash was followed by a sickening noise, and for a heartbeat Cersei could not hear Melara's screams. She heard a second splash, and all of sudden Melara was screaming again. Cersei rose slowly, her heart beating fast, feeling paralized.  
  
"Cersei!" screamed Melara, her voice wild and terrified. The well made her sound like a wounded beast, echoing the water splashing around her "CERSEI, PLEASE! PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME HERE! I'M HURT!" Cersei started to run, breathing fast. "PLEASE! Oh, please, Cersei, it hurts so bad! I DON'T WANT TO DIE! Gods, oh gods..." Cersei could her her voice growing fainter, and she used all her strength to run faster.  
  
 _If I never speak of it, it won't come true. It would be as if it never happened._ _  
_ __  
It never happened.  


 


	16. Jaime VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In an AU where Joanna Lannister doesn't die giving birth to Tyrion, how much would the history of Westeros change? Long fic, begining in Tyrion's birth and following until The War of the Five Kings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, there! Now, Jaime VI takes place at the same time that Cersei's last chapter. I hope you like it! It shouldn't be long for the next two chapters. Enjoy! Comments and kudos are always appreciated!

Jaime slammed the door of his chamber with all his strength, cursing under his breath. He had arrived to Casterly Rock days ago, but still Cersei did nothing but ignore him, leaving him to the likes of the little companions, Melara and Jeyne. Oberyn did find the girls amusing, teasing them and flirting with fat Jeyne, who would only blush and giggle every time the dornish prince talked to her.   
  
"The fat one,” said Jaime with disbelief. "Why were you flirting with the fat one? Melara is way prettier, if you like freckles."   
  
"Melara is too busy staring at you to pay me any attention,” threw back Oberyn casually, and Jaime felt his face reddening. "Why don't you talk to her, if you find her pretty?" Jaime gave him a sullen look, and Oberyn laughed.   
  
Jaime almost wished he had stayed in Dorne, with Elia. But no, not really. He was happy to see his mother and his uncles again. He hadn't seen little Tyrion yet, but uncle Gery said he had his own little wooden sword now, and would challenge anyone who cared to play with him. The thought made Jaime smile. He had asked mother to take Tyrion to the field to see him joust at the squires' tourney, but mother had declined with a sad smile, and Jaime had not insisted. He had been more than happy to see mother and his uncles cheering as he rode against some squire from the Riverlands. Father had even nodded at him, pleased, when the boy went flying from his horse when Jaime's lance took him right on the chest.   
  
"My firstborn and heir,” said Lord Tywin, as Jaime took his knee in front of the king and the prince.   
  
"A promising squire,” said the prince, not unkindly. The king merely stared at him, making Jaime uncomfortable.   
  
"How old are you, lad?" asked the king.   
  
"I've seen ten namedays, Your Grace,” said Jaime, nervously. There was something in the king's eyes that made Jaime's skin crawl. The king grunted, and turned to ask his Hand.   
  
"And where is your youngest, Tywin?" he asked loudly. Jaime felt something turning in his belly, and his head moved from the king, to his lord father. Lord Tywin's mouth hardened, as he watched his king silently. "I've seen your golden twins before, but I've never met the little dwarf.” Some lord chuckled lowly and, oddly, seeming to give courage to the Targaryen king. Jaime was still on his knee, staring at the floor, unable to move, and feeling the panic in the back on his throat. _Father will be displeased._ _But, what do kings care about their lords' pleasure?_ "Tell me, Tywin, where do you keep it?" Lord Tywin opened his mouth to give an answer to his king, but then Jaime heard faintly someone mumble the word menagerie, and more people laughing. Suddenly his nerves turned to anger. _It. It, he calls him, as if he wasn't human._ He raised his face and stared at the king, who met his eyes, forgetting about Lord Tywin for a second. "Are you angry, young squire?" He seemed amused by the turn of events. "Does it bother you, that I call your little brother a dwarf?" Jaime felt his face reddening, and more laughter on the hall.   
  
"I think that's enough, father,” said the prince, sharply. The king turned to face his heir, his eyes narrowing dangerously.   
  
"And I think I'm still king, and I will know when it's enough,” he replied, his voice full of poison. Prince Rhaegar stared at his father with something very alike to disgust in his violet eyes.   
  
Someone grabbed Jaime by the arm, as the king continued to discuss with his son. Jaime turned and found his uncle Gery, more serious that he had ever seen him, nodding to Lord Tywin as he took him away. The last thing Jaime saw, before leaving the great hall, was his father giving the king an answer that Jaime could not make out.   
  
"It's stupid,” said Oberyn at night, safely hidden in Prince Lewyn's pavilion. "What is he going to do, hide your brother until he's a man grown?"   
  
"Careful with your tongue, lad,” warned Prince Lewyn. "Lord Tywin is Hand of the King, and the child's father. He must have his reasons." Oberyn snorted, winning him a good clout in the ear, courtesy of his uncle. Jaime barely saw him. He sipped his wine, his eyes fixed on the carpet. When his uncle Gery delivered him to Prince Lewyn, safely far from the king, he had been so mad that his hands were shaking. The dornish prince had calmed him, and allowed him and Oberyn to drink some wine. It did help to sooth him, as the prince had promised, but he still felt angry with the Targaryen king.   
  
"That's not how a king should act,” he mumbled. Prince Lewyn gave him an odd stare, and sighed. He stood up and walked toward Jaime, to sit beside him on the bench.   
  
"I know its hard, Jaime,” he said, putting a hand on Jaime's shoulder. "But you have to understand, you must understand, now that you are still a lad, that most things are not how they are supposed to.” Jaime met his eyes for a second, before fixing his eyes on the carpet once more "A king should be just, and wise and strong. He's supposed to protect those who need it, like a knight. But not all kings do what they should, just as not every knight is chivalrous or honorable. It was not kind from the king to refer to Tyrion like that, but you mustn't let that hurt you.” Jaime saw his own tears crashing against the carpet, leaving little wet dark spots on the fabric. He wiped them away, angrily, only to feel more coming unbidden to his eyes. "And most important, you must not let your feelings be exposed like that. When someone is trying to hurt you, the worst thing you can do is to let them know they are succeeding. That's how you let them win."   
  
"He talked about Tyrion as if he was some kind of beast,” mumbled Jaime between his teeth.   
  
"Does that make him a beast? Does it change how you love him, what he means to you?" Jaime shook his head vigorously. "People will always try to hurt him, and to hurt you through him. Do not let them, Jaime,” and then the prince pulled Jaime to him and embraced him fiercely. Jaime stood still as stone for a heartbeat, before he relaxed and buried his face in the prince's chest, crying bitter tears into the man's yellow tunic.   
  
After that, Jaime feared his mother would not let him see Tyrion, and risk his father's displeasure. On the morrow, he gathered all of his courage and asked Lady Joanna, who smiled at him and caressed his hair.   
  
"Soon, my lion cub,” she told him. "I'll send for you.”   
  
_I should give him a present_ , thought Jaime, polishing Prince Lewyn's shield. _A toy, so he can remember me when I'm back in Dorne._   
  
It hadn't been that hard to find a decent toymaker at Lannisport, and Jaime had asked him for a very specific toy he had in mind. A few days later, when he came back to get the toy and pay the man, he had smiled, pleased with the result. He had asked for a wooden knight, his joints pegged together and with strings set through. The knight was painted in bright colors, with a golden lion of sorts on his chest, and a longsword in his hand.   
  
“Tyrion will love it,” he thought, showing the wooden knight to Oberyn.   
  
"A golden-haired Lannister knight,” said Oberyn, turning the toy in his hands. "Is it supposed to be you, Jaime?" Jaime hit him in the ribs with his elbow, and Oberyn laughed, handing him the toy back.   
  
Later, Jaime would be thankful to buy Tyrion a present. When his mother called him to the nursery, his little brother kept hiding behind Lady Joanna's skirt.   
  
"Don't be rude, love,” scolded auntie Genna from her cushioned chair, her youngest son, Tion, in her arms. "Come and greet your brother.” Tyrion kept stealing wary glances at Jaime, uncertain. Lady Joanna mumbled some reassuring words, and pushed him gently towards Jaime.  
  
"Tyrion," called Jaime, crouching to match his brother's height. "I'm Jaime, your brother. Do you remember me?" The boy just stared at him with his little mismatched eyes. "Here," said Jaime, showing him the wooden knight. That caught Tyrion's attention. "I brought you a present, see? Mother told me you like knights, and that you have your own sword." Tyrion took a few steps forward, and turned to see his mother. Lady Joanna nodded, smiling to her youngest son. "Come and take it." The boy approached Jaime, and took the wooden knight. He did love it, his little face filled with emotion as he analyzed the toy.   
  
"What do we say, Tyrion?" asked Lady Joanna, smiling to her sons.   
  
"Thank you," said the child shyly. Jaime was very pleased with himself, watching his little brother moving the knight's arms and legs. He sat right there, and began to play with the toy on the carpet.   
  
"He seems to like it," pointed out auntie Genna, handing her babe to a wet nurse.   
  
Shortly, Tyrion was babbling with Jaime as he played, laughing as he made the knight move. He still spoke like a babe, but last time Jaime saw him he hadn't learned his words yet. Still, the boy had a little trouble pronouncing Jaime's name.   
  
"Jaime," he said slowly. "Said it 'Jai-me'. Jaime" The little boy struggled to pronounce his brother's name correctly, but after a few hours he did nothing but call him over and over, as he ran around. Shortly, his voice woke up Tion, forcing auntie Genna to leave with the child.   
  
"He has grown," he whispered to his mother, as she put Tyrion in his cradle. He had grown tired and fallen asleep, still holding the wooden knight in his little hands.   
  
"He has," agreed Lady Joanna, caressing the boy's hair. "Yet, he's still a babe."   
  
"When will I see him again?" asked Jaime. The farewell feast was a few days from now, and after that, he would go back to Dorne, with Prince Lewin.   
  
"Maybe before the year is out," mumbled Lady Joanna, as they walked outside the nursery. "But I can make no promises, my love. Maybe you could come to say farewell, before you take your ship." Jaime sighed, following his mother down the hall. "I saw you yesterday in the melée," said Lady Joanna, and Jaime smiled at her. "That lad really had no chance against you, little lion. Whoever Loree's master-at-arms is, he is training you well."   
  
"Thank you, mother," said Jaime, hearing laugher down the hall. "Father seemed pleased, though he told me he would had preferred to see me fight with proper knight's weapons." Lady Joanna sighed.   
  
"I know nothing about knight's weapons," said his mother, "but I think you did wonderfully."   
  
"Next time, I will win," declared Jaime. "You'll see, mother." Lady Joanna smiled, and turned her face to the noise growing from the hall. Suddenly, Cersei and the little companions, Melara and Jeyne, appeared running in front of them. Cersei stopped before her mother and stared at her. Finally, she smiled and took a little bow.   
  
"Mother," she greeted, with a wicked smile. The two girls bowed behind her, giggling. "Brother," said Cersei, bowing her head to him as well. Jaime bowed his head, confused. Cersei had barely payed him any attention since he arrived. He felt Melara's gaze, and met her eyes. The girl blushed and looked away.   
  
"What are you doing, little ladies?" asked his mother, gently. "Where is septa Saranella?"   
  
"We asked her permission to go to my solar, to pick our gowns for the farewell feast, mother," said Cersei, all smiles.   
  
"You shouldn't be running alone," said Lady Joanna. "The Rock is far too crowded for my taste."   
  
"Maybe Jaime could escort us to Cersei's solar, my lady," proposed Melara, quickly. Lady Joanna considered for a heartbeat, and finally nodded. Jaime met his mother's eyes, awkward.   
  
"See the ladies safely to the solar, Jaime," she instructed, kindly. "I will see you on the morrow," said Lady Joanna. For a second, Jaime feared she would hug him in front of the girls, but his mother only bowed her head to him, before walking away.   
  
Cersei looked as if she had bitten a dornish lemon. She gave a warning look to her companions, and offered her arm to Jaime.   
  
"Thank you, brother," she said graciously, pulling him down the hall. He opened his mouth, wondering what to say. It was not easy to talk to his twin with the wards walking very closely; besides, what would he tell her?   
  
"Jaime," called Melara, somewhere behind him. "We saw you yesterday, at the melée. You were so gallant, I knew you would win. Didn't I tell you, Jeyne?" the fat girl nodded, smiling at Jaime.   
  
"You are too kind," said Jaime, turning to face them. Yet, Cersei held him firmly by the arm, almost dragging him with her, making it very difficult for Jaime to keep eye contact with the girls.  
  
"I had never seen someone fight with a spear," continued Melara. "It was so exciting."   
  
"And also the dornish princes," added Jeyne. "Both of them. Oberyn was so fast at the melée... And Prince Lewyn! For a moment, I thought he would unhorse Ser Arthur!"   
  
"I never did," said Cersei, eyeing Jeyne. "Ser Arthur Dayne is one of the finest swords in the realm, one of the king's own seven. He even bested Prince Rhaegar."   
  
"Prince Lewyn did not disgrace himself," said Jaime. "Ser Arthur is younger, that's all."   
  
They glimpsed Cersei's door, and Melara rushed to meet Jaime.   
  
"Don't you want to stay, Jaime?" she proposed. "You could tell us about Dorne. I've never been to Dorne." Cersei gave Melara an annoyed look.   
  
"That wouldn't be proper, Melara," she scolded. "The septa isn't here, and besides, we were supposed to try gowns for the feast." Jaime let Cersei's arm go, uncomfortable. His sister had never cared a fig about what was proper, when it came to him. Melara kept quiet, giving Cersei a sullen look. "I am sorry, Jaime. Thank you for escorting us." She gave Jaime a kiss on the cheek, and turned to see her companions entering the solar.   
  
"Thank you, Jaime," said Melara, lowly. Jaime nodded at her, and turned to face his sister. Cersei was already following the girls, when Jaime reacted.   
  
"Cersei, wait!" he called, and his twin stopped at the door.   
  
"Yes, Jaime?" Jaime stared at her, not knowing what to say.   
  
"Why haven't you talk to me while I was here?" he managed. "Didn't you miss me?" Cersei looked strangely at him.   
  
"Of course I did," she assured him. "But we both have been busy, I did not think..."   
  
"But you are different," stated Jaime, interrupting her. That seemed to bother his twin. "Why don't you want me to stay here? What's all that nonsense about the septa?" Cersei snorted, and rolled her eyes.   
  
"Melara believes she is in love with you," she said, and Jaime blushed. _So, Oberyn was right._ "It's for her sake only. She can never hope to marry you. Her father isn't even a lord." Jaime pulled his hair back, uncomfortable. "Besides, you are all the time in the dornish prince’s pavilion. You even take your meals there."   
  
"I will break my fast on the morrow here, at the Rock," proposed Jaime. "Can we talk then?" Cersei gave him a measuring look, and finally nodded.   
  
"Alright, then. But mother makes Jeyne and Melara follow me everywhere," she warned him. "So you'll have to suffer Melara." Jaime smiled.  
  
"It doesn't matter," he added. "I could bring Oberyn, he can keep them busy." He took Cersei's hand. "I have so much to tell you... A lot has happened." Cersei smiled back at him.   
  
"A lot has happened to me as well," she said, narrowing her eyes with mischief. "But I don't want to spoil the surprise. You'll find out at the feast."   
  
But Jaime never found out if Melara was truly so annoying. He and Oberyn broke their fast together at the Rock, but neither Cersei or the wards ever appeared. Jaime ate sullenly from his plate, and left the Great Hall angrily, followed by Oberyn.   
  
"Where are we going?" asked Oberyn, but Jaime gave him no answer. Finally, he found his way into the Rock's godswood, where he threw himself under the shadow of a great oak. Oberyn sat beside him, trying to talk to him, but Jaime did not feel like talking.   
  
They stood like that a few hours, until the sky was red from the sinking sun, until Prince Lewyn summoned them back to his pavilion.   
  
"We are needed," he told Jaime and Oberyn, as soon as he saw them. "Someone is missing."   
  
"What do you mean?" asked Oberyn, as they ran to the field where the tilts had been taken place.   
  
"Ser Tygett has summoned all the knights," he informed them. "There is a girl missing, one of your mother's wards, I think," he added, eyeing Jaime. "I believe they want us to help them find her."   
  
"Melara Heatherspoon," said uncle Tyg, from above the crowd. "She is ten, brown hair, freckled face, slender. She was wearing an orange gown." Lady Joanna was standing beside his uncle, a deeply worried look on her face. Behind her, Cersei and Jeyne stood, holding hands, closely watched by their septa. It shocked Jaime how distressed Cersei looked. She was very pale, her eyes red and puffy, as Jeyne's were as well. "No one leaves Lannisport, and no ship is to leave the docks until the girl is found." His uncle Gery, Ser Benedict, and four other men held torches, and walked among knights, squires and sellswords alike, to help them light their own. "My brother Gerion will lead a group to check every inn. I need thirty men with him," continued uncle Tyg, pointing at his brother. Uncle Gery raised his torch, to make himself noted among the crowd. Inmediately, some Vale men and a few knights from the Stormlands gathered around Jaime's uncle. Uncle Gery met his brother's eyes, who nodded at him.   
  
"With me," commanded uncle Gery, leading his men.   
  
"Lord Tywin and my brother Kevan are leading the search on Casterly Rock. They need twenty men to search down the dungeons."   
  
"I will take my men there," offered Lord Hoster Tully, and uncle Tyg nodded.   
  
"Maester Creylen will guide you. He's waiting at the Lion's Mouth. Lord Hoster, a favor. Could you please escort my good sister and the ladies back to the Rock?”   
  
“It will be my pleasure,” said Lord Hoster. Lady Joanna took Cersei’s hand, and guided her to the horses, closely followed by Jeyne and the septa. Lord Hoster himself helped Lady Joanna climb to her horse, as one of his men did the same for the septa. Jeyne and Cersei each rode with a knight.   
  
As soon as they were ready, Lord Tully made a brusque gesture to his rivermen, and they rushed to their horses. "Ser Benedict," continued uncle Tyg, as he pointed at him with his torch, and the old knight gave him a curt nod, "will take another group to the docks, and to search every ship on port. I need at least another forty there.” This time, a mixed group of king’s landers and reachmen offered to help Ser Benedict. “Now, I will lead the search on the woods, but I still need someone to help me guide a group on the southern woods, so we can cover more ground."   
  
"We will do it," said a voice behind Jaime. He turned, only to find the Prince of Dragonstone, followed by Ser Arthur Dayne and the White Bull, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.   
  
“My Prince,” greeted uncle Tyg, bowing his head respectfully. “You’ll need a guide as well, someone who know these woods. Clegane,” he called, and a tall man in  a yellow surcoat step forward. “My Prince, Ser Fendor will guide you. His own lands aren’t far from here, he knows every rock and stream in this woods.”   
  
“I will take my boy as well, if it pleases my prince,” said the man, taking his knee in front of the young prince.   
  
“Very well, Ser Fendor,” said the prince, taking a torch for himself. He made a gesture, and Clegane stood up.   
  
“We will like to come with you as well, my Prince,” said Prince Lewyn, his voice flavored with his dornish accent. Behind him, the few dornish knights that had come to the tourney muttered their agreement.   
  
“I thank you, Prince Lewyn,” the prince said, courteously.   
  
“We'll meet back here at dawn,” said uncle Tyg, climbing to his horse. “If you find the girl, send a word to the Rock with one of the lads.” He spun his horse, and turned. “Good luck. With your leave, my prince.” Prince Rhaegar nodded at him.   
  
“Ser Fendor,” called the prince. “Please, show us the way.” The man bowed to the prince.   
  
“Gregor, bring me a torch!” The massive lad offered his own torch to his father.   
  
“Clegane, of course!” said Oberyn, pulling Jaime’s sleeve.   
  
“This is the one you told me about?” asked the dornish prince, lowly, his eyes never leaving the giant boy.   
  
“Oh, yes!” said Jaime, remembering. “He broke Gerion’s arm. Ser Benedict’s nephew.”   
  
“Well, you weren’t lying when you told me he was tall,” said Prince Lewyn, taking the torch Ser Arthur was offering to him. “Take one as well, lads,” he added. Jaime took one from a dornishmen, and lighted it with Prince Lewyn’s help.   
  
“Are we ready, Ser Fendor?” asked Prince Rhaegar.   
  
“On your command, my Prince” said the man. The prince nodded, and Ser Fendor turned to face his men. “After me!” 


	17. Cersei V

 

 

From the chamber's window, Cersei could still see some men-at-arms, lead by Ser Benedict, coming back from the woods. A day and a night and yet another day had passed, but the men continued to search for Melara. At first she was afraid, wondering if someone would hear Melara's terrible screams. What if she began to talk? But when dawn came, and the men returned home to rest and gain new strength, Cersei began to feel more relaxed. Even the men seemed certain Melara was either dead, or far from their reach. _And even if she shows up, and begins to make up some lunatic's story, I would deny it all,_  Cersei had decided. Nobody would dare doubt Lord Tywin's daughter. 

She saw a shape moving behind her, reflected on the window, and jumped, startled. But it was only the stupid septa, approaching Cersei with little short steps. 

"My lady," said Saranella, softly. "Won't you come join the other maids, to pray for Melara's safe return?" Cersei's mouth twitched, and she took a step back from the window. _Melara is dead, you fool_ , thought Cersei bitterly. _Your prayers will not help her_. Still, she nodded and followed the woman. All the highborn ladies who resided on the Rock were sitting, holding hands and muttering prayers under their breath. All, but the Lady Joanna, who was now meeting with Melara's mother, comforting her. She found her aunt Genna between her uncle's betrothed, Darlessa, and little Jeyne Farman. Jeyne lifted her eyes furtively, and met Cersei's for a heartbeat. Cersei looked away, in discomfort. Jeyne hadn't made a single sound since Melara's disappearance, and her silence unnerved Cersei. Auntie Genna found her eyes instead. The woman excused herself to the other women, and rose. 

"Niece," called auntie Genna, softly. "Come with me, my dear." Cersei felt a knot in her stomach, wondering what could her aunt want. The woman was waiting for Cersei on the other side of the chamber. Reluctantly, Cersei approached her aunt. 

 "How are you, dear?" asked aunt Genna, kindly.

 "I'm alright," said Cersei, quickly. Her aunt nodded, and leaned closer to Cersei. 

 "Listen, Cersei," she started very lowly, eyeing the other woman in the room. "I know it is really difficult for you right now, with Melara missing, and everyone losing their minds around here, but..." her voice dropped even more. "Your father. He wanted me to tell you, love, that your betrothal will be announced at the farewell feast. You must be especially beautiful," Lady Genna told her, fussing with her dress.  Cersei felt a queer feeling in her belly. _My betrothal_. "Try to please your father, my dear. He has been in a grim mood these past days. Tell no one about it, is it understood?"

 "Of course, auntie," said Cersei, solemnly. 

"Sweet girl," said aunt Genna, with a little smile. "Now, back to your prayers, dear." 

But Cersei wasn't able to pray, not even to think of Melara for the rest of the day; all she could think of was her prince.

She excused herself and retired to her chambers, closely followed by the septa. Lord Tywin had commanded her that Cersei was not to be left alone, not even in her own chambers, and Septa Saranella had obliged. But Cersei did not care, for once. All Cersei wanted was to look beautiful for her prince. She sent for her bedmaid, who trimmed her nails and brushed her hair until it shone like liquid gold, falling well past her waist. 

 "My lady has such a beautiful mane," complimented the woman, putting aside the brush. Cersei smiled to her, but did not reply back. Then the woman proceeded to braid her golden curls around her head. _Like a crown_ , thought Cersei happily. "Will my lady be wearing her green gown?" asked the bedmaid. Cersei thought about it for a moment. Green would bring the color of her eyes, but it wouldn't be especially harmonious with the prince's black armor.

 "No, not green, The red one, I believe." The woman nodded and hurried to get the gown. Red is a Lannister color, but black and red are for the Targaryen alone. 

_Then we will look like a royal couple indeed, garbed in Targaryen colors._   

And her body was changing as well, Cersei had come to notice. All her gowns were obviously cut for a child, but new shapes had come to fill the fabric in ways it didn't before. I'll be a woman soon, thought Cersei, pleased. A maid fit to be wed.

 "My ruby pendant earrings, with the matching ring," said Cersei. Those had been her grandmother's, Lord Tytos' wife Jeyne. Uncle Kevan said that Lord Tywin had loved her dearly, though she had died when he was still a squire. Most of Lady Jeyne's jewelry belonged to Cersei, some to her aunt Genna, but not Lady Joanna. Every single bracelet and pendant that the Lady of Casterly Rock owned had been payed by her husband with Lannister gold. As the bedmaid secured the pendants in Cersei's ears, she tried the ring. It was a fine piece of goldwork, crowned with a round ruby that shone like a bright sun.  This was the first time she would wear it, as it had always been too big for her fingers. But that was years ago, thought Cersei, delighted. Father will be pleased when he sees his mother's rubies. 

 "It is done, my lady," said the bedmaid, taking a few steps back to appreciate her own work. She nodded with approval.

 "You look so beautiful, little lady," said the septa, with a soft voice. 

 "Thank you," said Cersei, kindly. "You may leave." The bedmaid bowed and left the chamber, leaving Cersei alone with the septa. Soon, the woman excused herself as well, certainly to go fetch Jeyne and bring her to keep Cersei company, but for once she did not care. She was in a very good mood, and nothing could sour her smile. She could scarcely wait.

 She sat on the cushioned stone bench by the window, and stared down to the yard. The squires and stewards were already taking down the colorful pavilions and tents of the great lords and knights they served. Some of the knights would leave right after the feast, to find new lords to serve, and new tourneys to win. But those who would leave by the sea, wouldn't part until the morrow. She could not see the Sunset Sea from her window, but she knew it would be bursting with merchant ships from all around the known world, all of them trying to outrun the others to reach the new ports first. 

 But she could see the Martell prince's pavilion, made of yellow fabric so bright that it was impossible to miss. Jaime must be there, running behind his dornish prince. 

 An hour passed, and Cersei barely noticed when Jeyne entered the chamber, absorbed as she was. But poor company she was, sewing close to the hearth. At least Melara made me laugh, thought Cersei. Jeyne is good for nothing, but to annoy me. She would get rid of her as soon as she could, Cersei decided. Father can't force me to take her to King's Landing with me. I'll live in the Red Keep, surrounded by the high lords and ladies, and all of them will bow to me. The future queen, Prince Rhaegar's betrothed. 

Another hour passed by, and Cersei saw the sky darken, and the men below lighting torches. She took a deep breath, bored. She even tried a few stitches, to distract herself, but it was no good. The chamber was too dark, and it made her eyes hurt when she tried to sew like that. She sent for a serving woman to light the candles in her chamber. When the woman entered Cersei's chamber, she put a golden dish with figs and some cheese on a table next to her, before lighting the candles. When she was done, Cersei made her take the golden dish away. _I'm about to eat at the feast, you fool. What good is it eating now?_

But the next hour, Cersei regretted not eating at least a bite of one of the figs. She hadn't eaten since she broke her fast, and even then she had been so nervous she had barely been able to drink some sweetened milk. She decided to leave her chambers and made her way to the Great Hall, even though she still hadn't been summoned by her father, but the guards by her door turned out to be problem. Even though Cersei had commanded, demanded, and insulted the men, they wouldn't allow her leaver her chambers. Defeated, Cersei asked them to send a message to her aunt. 

"And some food for me and Jeyne, as well," commanded Cersei, reluctantly. 

The food arrived soon enough, not fruit and cheese, but a thick soup of barley and venison, with sweetened lemonwater to wash it down. Both girls ate eagerly, but even when they were done and the serving women took away the leftovers, auntie Genna had not come yet. Cersei had a queer tight feeling in her belly, and she could not stay still anymore. 

_It's nothing. They had some trouble in the kitchens, that delayed the feast, but they will soon send for me_ .

_But if it was some kind of trouble in the kitchen, how could they send me food so quickly?_ Cersei shook her head, to keep those kind of thoughts off her mind. 

"The lady Genna is without, my lady," said the guard, through the door. Cersei jumped to her feet, as her aunt rushed to the bedchamber in a swirl of skirts. 

"Take the girl to the septa," commanded aunt Genna, pointing at Jeyne. "Tell Saranella I'll send for them as soon as I'm done talking with my niece." The guard nodded, and guided Jeyne out of the chamber, closing the door behind them. Only then aunt Genna allowed herself to sit. "Come and sit, my dear." Cersei felt her heart beating hard against her chest.

"Is it time?" she asked, approaching her aunt. "Auntie, are we going to the Great Hall now?" She sat in front of the woman, flattening her skirts. 

"Cersei, I need you to remain very calm," she started, and suddenly Cersei felt all her blood leaving her face. 

The night of the farewell feast, Cersei cried her heart out. 

Jeyne had woken up, only to met her eyes silently. Angrily, Cersei had turned her back to her, unwilling to be exposed like that, and unable to stop the tears. Eventually, she heard Jeyne's breath slowing down as she fell asleep again, to Cersei's relief. Cersei had come to hate Jeyne's silent stares. When Cersei asked the maester what was wrong with Jeyne, he explained that she was still suffering for Melara, and that she would come back to being herself, in time.   

Still, father had inflicted Jeyne upon her, and had declared she would share her bed every night. Cersei had the notion father believed someone could try to take her, as they took Melara, and Cersei couldn't say anything to make him think otherwise.

_Father, why did you lie to me?_

Everything was wrong, wrong, terribly wrong. Melara had lied, as her lord father did. Cersei had kept both secrets, her betrothal and her curse, but it hadn't mattered in the end. The king had spurned her father, deeming her as the daughter of his servant, unfit to marry his silver son. There hadn't been a farewell feast, and now the Rock was quickly emptying, as the knights and lords returned awkwardly to their lands. Cersei smashed her fist into her pillow, over and over again, wishing she could hit Maggy and wipe her from the face of the world. 

_What does it mean?_  she thought, desperately. _I will never marry the prince, she said. I will marry the king... Does it mean prince Rhaegar will marry me after his father dies? Cersei felt really confused. Maybe he wants to marry me, and his father does not allow it. But when my prince is king, he will come for me._

_He will. He must. He will come for me, and we will marry at the Great Sept of Baelor, as mother and father did._

But that was not the piece that worried Cersei the most.

_"Queen you shall be... until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all that you hold dear.._."

 Despite her best efforts to forget the witch's words, they kept echoing in her head day and night, following her to her bed and her bath. 

_"Gold shall be their crowns and gold their shrouds,"_ she said." _And when your tears have drowned you, the valonqar shall wrap his hands about your pale white throat and choke the life from you..."_

 Cersei began to weep. Last night, she had dreamed a valyrian monster came to kill her. She wanted to ask Maester Creylen what did 'valonqar' meant, but she was afraid he would demand of her where she had learned that word. What if it was a bad word, some kind of valyrian ancient curse? Anyhow, the maester wasn't likely to pay her any attention these days; he and the master-at-arms still had a score of men looking for Melara all over Lannisport. Even her prince had taken part in the search, to no avail. She heard some serving woman saying that some ship must have taken the girl, to sell her to a pleasure house in Lys. Most of the servants agreed, to Cersei's relief. The port was now bursting with ships from all over the world. It wouldn't be the first time someone stole a young girl to sell her in Essos. 

But if they found the well...

Cersei shook her head, to keep Melara out of her thoughts. She had other matters, more important now than some landed knight's daughter. She resolved to ask her septa about the valonqar thing. Maybe she could tell her, and it was unlikely that she would ask her awkward questions. 

_Gold shall be their crowns and gold their shrouds..._

"PLEASE! Oh, please, Cersei! I DON'T WANT TO DIE!"

 Cersei could almost hear Maggy's awful laugher, and the spicy burnt smell of her dirty cottage. A shiver crept down her spine, like cold dead fingers. 

_And when your tears have drowned you, the valonqar shall wrap his hands about your pale white throat and choke the life from you..._

Cersei kicked the sheets off and jumped to her feet. She shook her head, breathing fast, and began to walk around the room, her steps muffled by the golden carpet. She wanted someone to help her, to tell her what to do, but she was afraid of father and what would he say. Besides, how could she even explain...? But no, better not to think about that. 

"CERSEI, PLEASE!"

Cersei wanted to scream, to drown both Melara's and Maggy's voice. If only the king had accepted... Nothing of this would matter, nothing! My prince would protect me from the valonqar, he would order to rip out Maggy's lying tongue. The only man more powerful than father was the king; her husband and king would have protected her, even if Lord Tywin couldn't.

But she lost her prince, and father couldn't help her. What was left for her now? Who could defend her from the valonqar?

She felt tears rushing to her eyes again, and when she tried to wipe them off again, she felt Jeyne's gaze on herself. Unnerved, she felt her anger rising to her throat. 

"Aren't you going to say anything?" she threw at her. Jeyne's eyes filled with tears as well, but she never took her eyes off Cersei, and not a single word left her lips. 

Suddenly Cersei realized she did not want to be locked up with Jeyne all night. She gave the girl a last exasperated look, before she crossed the room and opened the door. She jumped, startled, when she found two guards posted outside her door. She had forgot about them for a heartbeat, but it did not matter anyway, as both men were peacefully asleep on the floor. 

Cersei jumped over them, and began to ran down the hall. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! It's been a while!  
> I'm sorry I haven't been able to update as often as I used to. I haven't give up on this fic, I promise!  
> I hope you enjoy this chapter, and the next one! Comments and kudos are always welcome!


	18. Joanna VII

The Golden Sept was still dark at dawn, precariously lighted by the gods' dim candles and the pale waking sun. This early on the morrow, not even the huge colored myrish glass behind the Father’s altar managed to illuminate the seven sided sept. It did not matter. It was a place of peace and safety for Joanna, ever since she was a child, when she used to come and hide here every time things grew too tempestuous at The Rock. Back when uncle Tytos was Lord Paramount. Lord Tytos, the Toothless Lion of Lannister. Back then, behind the altar of the Father there was only a rock wall, yet a wall still embroidered with red and yellow veins of raw Lannister gold, left unmined since the Age of Heroes as an act of devotion. Joanna remembered how hard she and Genna struggled to read their books of prayers by the tenuous candlelight. When she was five and ten, Tywin had asked her here what she prayed for. "I pray they build a bigger window for the sept," she japed, smiling to the cousin she already loved. "I can hardly read in this light." She became his lady wife as soon as summer came, in the grandeur of the Great Sept of Baelor, with the royal family and the whole court to bear witness. By the time they reached The Rock, Joanna had hurried to the sept to light a candle, to thank the Seven for protecting them on the road; when she stepped inside the Golden Sept, the beauty of it took her breath away. 

 Behind the Father's altar, there was a huge window of stained myrish glass, with the shape of the Seven Pointed Star shining in different colors. It loomed over Joanna's head, filling the sept with clear light. Joanna remembered thinking she had never seen something so beautiful in her whole life. He loved me, she thought, sadly. I knew it then, and after that I never needed more proof. 

Tywin, do you still love me? She believed not. And yet, the proof of the love Tywin bore her once still made the Golden Sept come alive with light every morning, with the gods as witness.

I prayed for my children. For Jaime and Cersei's virtue, for Tyrion's life, for Cersei's future, for Jaime's safety. I asked and asked and asked, and every time the mother interceded and heard my prayers. If Tywin's love was the price to pay for the life of my children, I would gladly pay it thrice over.

She knelt by the Mother, and thanked her fervently for her intervention. She recited a few verses from the seven pointed star down her breath, and finally rose to approach the Mother. She bowed her head and lit a scented candle, and made the sign of the seven. 

“Gentle Mother, font of mercy,” she whispered, meeting the jeweled eyes of the goddess. Two shiny emeralds, looking back at her. The flickering light of her candle made the emeralds come alive. 

_Why, she looks as if she was about to cry._  

Joanna shook her head, trying to keep the doom out of it. The gods had heard her prayer, and now her daughter was free of Aerys’ son, of the madness of the Targaryen. What good was it to linger on dark thoughts? 

"A pity, the ban of the right of the first night," said Aerys' voice inside her head, so clear Joanna felt a shiver creeping down her spine.

 "Gentle mother, strength of women," she prayed, closing her eyes for a few heartbeats. Aerys is gone, he's going back to King's Landing. 

As soon as her heart steadied, she gathered her skirts and began to walk towards the gilded door. _Maybe this will bring Tywin back to his senses. I could try and talk to him, before he leaves for King’s Landing. Show him how fierce his youngest son is, how smart and how…_

Joanna stopped abruptly. By the Father’s altar, a young girl was sleeping on the floor. _Melara?_ She thought wildly first, but as she approached the light made clear this was not her brown-haired ward. Golden curls, she realized. _Cersei?_  

Her daughter was fast asleep, curled on the stone hard floor; she was still wearing her thin nightgown, without so much as a dressing gown to keep her warm, and above all barefooted. Joanna approached, with a mix of fear and anger growing inside of her. Ever since Melara's disappearance, Tywin had commanded two men should always guard their daughter's door. The septa had now a bedchamber contiguous to Cersei's, and little Jeyne shared her bed every night; the fact that Melara, who had shared their daughter's meals and bed, had been stole right under everyone's nose had made Tywin wary. Most of the knights and sellswords who had came to the tournament had left by now, but neither Tywin nor Joanna would risk their only daughter. 

Joanna knelt by her side, and reached out for her daughter, but she stopped before she could touch her. Even though her eyes were firmly closed, Joanna could see them moving wildly under her eyelids, silent tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Cersei," Joanna called, shaking her daughter kindly by a bare shoulder. "Cersei!" the girl opened her eyes abruptly, jumping. Her breath was fast and shallow, and she looked around, as if trying to figure out where she was. "Cersei, are you alright?" asked Joanna, and the girl fixed her scared eyes on hers. 

Then she broke into tears, sobbing and shaking uncontrollably. 

Joanna stared at her daughter, stunned. She had never, ever, seen Cersei cry like this, not even when she was a babe. That scared her more than she could believe.

"Cersei, my love," she said frenetically, holding her daughter's face in her hands. "What happened?"

"I dreamed about her again," sobbed Cersei. "She ordered her monster to kill me." 

"A nightmare?" asked Joanna, with relief. "Did you have a nightmare, love? Is that the way of it?" but Cersei kept crying desperately, her whole body shaking "Is alright, Cersei, it was only a dream..."

"No, it's not!" cried Cersei, staring at her mother with eyes full of tears. "The old witch, she told me I would die. I didn't want to go, but Melara told me she was a fortune teller, and…” That gave Joanna pause. She held her daughter by the shoulders to keep her still.

“Melara?" she interrupted Cersei. "Did you dream of her?" she asked. Cersei gave her a scared look, with a flicker of doubt in her green eyes. "Cersei, what did you say about Melara?" she insisted. 

"She went with me to the witch's cottage," she said slowly. "The day she disappeared, we went to see old Maggy."

"Who is Maggy?" asked Joanna.

"Maggy the Frog," whispered Cersei, as if she was afraid of saying the name. "The witch of Lannisport."

"Can you tell me what happened?" said Joanna, trying to keep her voice calm. Cersei just stared at her for a few heartbeats.

"Melara said she would tell us our future, so we went to her cottage. She tasted our blood, and she said... she..." tears filled Cersei's eyes again, and she began to sob again, unable to speak.

“Cersei, I need you to tell me what happened," trying to calm her down, Joanna held her daughter's hands. "You are safe here, love. The witch cannot harm you here. I would never let anyone harm you.” Cersei wiped her tears, still sobbing a little. Yet, she nodded to Joanna, and tried to take a deep breath. 

“She… The witch told me horrible things, and then she told Melara she would die soon,” she said. Joanna could feel her shaking. “We got scared and ran, but when I looked back, Melara wasn’t behind me,” she wiped her tears again. “I thought she was only lost, but I never found her. I…” Her voice caught in her throat, but Joanna squeezed her hand to reassure her. “I think Melara is dead,” tears rushed to her eyes again, and Joanna jumped forward to hug her. 

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” said Joanna, caressing her daughter’s golden curls, feeling her body shaking. She felt weak, and ill, and terribly guilty. 

“I thought you wouldn't believe me,” her daughter’s words felt like a knife in her heart. _Cersei, my only daughter, still half a child._

"I am sorry, love," said Joanna, feeling her daughter's hands clinging to her. "I'm so sorry... Could you forgive me?" Cersei kept sobbing, burying her face in Joanna's green gown.

Joanna refused to leave Cersei in her bedchamber until the girl was fast asleep, thanks to one of the maester's soothing potions. Genna had appeared an hour ago, followed by Dorna and Darlessa, and offered to stay with Cersei, so Joanna could meet Tywin, but when she met Joanna's silent gaze, she had just nodded and sat beside the bed with the two maids, praying quietly for Melara's safety. The septa was standing behind Joanna, watching her silently as she talked to her daughter. Jeyne was there as well, sitting on the stone bench by the window, with an absent look in her face. Cersei had told Joanna she was with them, the day the girls visited the witch, only Jeyne, ever fearful, had ran before the witch spoke. Ser Benedict had questioned her as well, with some help form Septa Saranella. She had confirmed what Cersei had told her mother.

When Cersei finally fell asleep, Joanna gave her a kiss on the forehead and gently unwrapped her daughter's fingers from her hand.

"Septa Saranella, if I may?" called Joanna, once she reached the door. The woman swiftly approached to her.

"My lady?"  

"Do not leave the girls alone," she instructed, eyeing her daughter and little Jeyne. "No one is to enter my daughter's chamber without my leave." 

"Of course, my lady," Joanna met Genna's eyes, who gave her a reassuring nod.

Joanna crossed the chamber, and as she walked beside the guards, she noticed with some satisfaction that the previous guards had been removed and replaced by four men-at-arms. Joanna still could not believe they had fallen asleep during their watch, leaving Cersei free to run around the castle alone at night. Lord Tywin's wrath must have been terrible to behold; he did not take failure lightly. Let them work in the mines until the seven hells freeze over, thought Joanna, bitterly, for once thankful of her husband's ruthless nature.

Her husband was waiting for her, standing next to the hearth. She hurried to him, until a voice called behind her.  

"My lady," said Ser Benedict. In her rush, Joanna had not seen him. The man looked truly miserable. His clothes were filthy, dirt darkening his skin over dried sweat. The poor, old man.

“Ser Benedict,” she greeted. “Did you find Melara?”  

“We... we found the body, my lady,” said Ser Benedict, and Joanna closed her eyes. She knew there was no hope for the girl, after being lost for so long, but a piece of her still prayed for her safe return. For her father’s and mother's sake, and Cersei’s. She turned to see her husband, trying to meet his eyes, but Lord Tywin had his own eyes still fixated on the fire.

“Do you know happened to her?” She asked, not sure if she wanted to know. Ser Benedict moved, uncomfortable. 

“We believe the witch pushed the girl down a well,” he told her. “Not far from her cottage.” 

“Call the silent sisters,” said Joanna immediately. “We must give her bones back to her father.”  

“We are having troubles retrieving the girl, my lady,” said one of the men-at-arms. “The little lady has been long dead, and the water…”

“That's enough!” jumped Lord Tywin, startling Joanna. The man fell quiet immediately. “My lady doesn't need to hear that kind of detail. Spare us your common, disrespectful ways." 

"Go away, boy," commanded Ser Benedict, brusquely. "Be useful, and inform Creylen about my lady's desires." The man bowed his head, and left the chamber hurriedly. 

"Ser Benedict tells me that they have the woman, as well," continued Lord Tywin. "The smallfolk knows her as 'Maggy'. An old, insane woman. A woods witch, of sorts."

"A woman who murdered a highborn girl, and dared to threaten our child," said Joanna, fiercely."Old she may be, but she will lose her head." Tywin's eyes met hers.

"On that we agree. A public execution, I think. A sharp lesson for the smallfolk." And a distraction as well, from the last humiliation the king inflicted on his Hand. Joanna did not care. She wanted the woman dead, she wanted her to stop haunting her daughter's dreams. "See to it, Ser Benedict," commanded Lord Tywin. "Have some men spread the word in Lannisport, so the smallfolk may attend."

"Of course, my lord," said Ser Benedict.

"You may leave us," commanded Lord Tywin, turning to face Joanna. "Sit, my lady. Are you hungry?" Joanna shook her head. 

"A cup of wine, maybe. Thank you, my lord." Tywin gave instructions, as Joanna sat by the hearth, suddenly feeling really tired. She hadn't seen Tyrion all day, and she had just briefly said her farewells to Jaime before he left for Dorne. This morning she had felt the weight in her heart lifted at last, her worries washed away... only to stumble on Melara's death. Will I ever know peace again? Tywin put a cup in Joanna's hands, and she took a sip. She felt a bitter taste on her tongue, a taste she had tried before, when Creylen gave her soothing potions. It did not matter. 

"Thank you," she muttered, putting down the cup, and facing her husband. 

"Try to drink all of it. It'll help you, or so Creylen says." Joanna nodded, taking another sip. "How is Cersei?" 

"Asleep," said Joanna. "Genna and the septa are with her."

"Good.  I want you to take Cersei with you to the execution, on the morrow," said Lord Tywin, and Joanna sighed, nodding. "See that she dresses accordingly. I want everyone to remember who she is, and what happens when someone dares to threaten my blood." Joanna remained silent, and took another sip from her cup. She did not want her daughter to see such thing, true; but on the other hand... if Cersei saw the witch dead with her own eyes, she would stop fearing the woman. Maybe it was for the best. 

"I'm increasing Ser Tybolt's lands," continued her husband, "I'm giving him a mill, and a nameless stream. The Westerlings may balk a little, but it is not like they have a word on it."

"The Westerlings?" 

"The former owners of the mill and the stream. Still, that should to as a gentle gesture to the grieving father." A mill and a stream, for his daughter's life. "As for the grieving mother..." he thought about it for a moment. "Before the Hetherspoons leave, you may approach Ser Tybolt's wife, and promise her to light a hundred candles for her soul at Maiden's day." Joanna nodded with agreement. 

"I'll see that Cersei lights them herself, as soon as she's able," she promised. Her daughter was growing fast, and before she knew it she would be fasting and purifying for her first Maiden's day. Her husband seemed amused, somehow.

"Best if you only tell her you'll see to it. Cersei lighting them is a promise you may not be able to keep." Joanna was at loss.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"That I'm taking Cersei with me to King's Landing, as soon as she flowers," he continued.

_No, you can't. Aerys refused you._

Joanna dug her nails deep into her skin, her hands two tight shaking fists "Are you unwell?"

"Are you going to take her, from me?" Tywin stared at her, and rose an eyebrow.

"Cersei? You barely pay her any mind, or so they tell me." _And by them, he means her brothers and my sweet good sister_ , thought Joanna, suddenly bitter. A castle filled with spies. "I must confess, after you defied me," Joanna felt her heart sink, "I had half a mind to send your son to Cornfield, or maybe to Ashmark. Highborn westermen with blood ties to the Lannisters, men of honor." He studied her with his pale eyes "But I believe I won't. You want to raise your son so much, that you neglect your only daughter? By the seven gods, my lady, you are free to do so. But you will not have a voice in the way I raise my children."

"I will not, I promise. You can put Genna in charge of Cersei, but why take her to King's Landing? This is her home. She should be raised here." Tywin smashed her fist at the table, sending Joanna's cup to the floor. Joanna stood very quiet, suddenly afraid of Lord Tywin's wrath.

"And you dare tell that to me?" he pointed his index finger at her face.  "You, who sent my firstborn and heir to be raised by dornishmen? No, my lady. It will not do. And my daughter comes with me, as soon as she flowers."

"You still mean to marry her to the prince," said Joanna, weakly. 

"This was merely a... mishap." 

"Tywin," started Joanna, slowly. "Aerys refused the betrothal. You know him, he will not reconsider!"

"He will not, I agree. Others may." That gave Joanna pause.

"You cannot mean..."

"Rhaegar is a young man, and young men tend to follow their hearts," said Lord Tywin, waving his hand. "The battle isn't done, not yet."

"Rhaegar can't hardly defy his father by choosing a bride he did not approve."

"Tell that to Aegon the Unlikely. All of his children defied his commands. He could not disown them, and he had more sons that Aerys does. Aerys couldn't possible disinherit Rhaegar even if he wanted. The Paramount lords wouldn't allow it."

"There is Viserys," tried Joanna. "Aerys could make Viserys his heir." 

"Viserys is a babe at the breast. No lord would follow him, even if he's still alive by the time Cersei is fit to wed." Joanna felt despair climbing to her throat, tightening around her neck like cold fingers. It was nothing, she thought, full of dread. He will take my daughter away, he still means to sell her to Aerys' son. "Guard," called Lord Tywin, without looking at his wife. "My wife is tired. Walk my lady to her chambers." 

The woman was truly ugly, and terribly old. She had no teeth, and her eyes were yellow and crusty, her face full of warts. _She does look every bit like some evil witch from a children’s tale_ , thought Joanna. No wonder Cersei had been so scared of the old woman. The Lannisport children seemed to share Joanna’s thought; as the woman was dragged to the plaza, many children threw rocks at her, calling her names. 

She turned, and looked at Cersei with her half blind eyes. Joanna squeezed her daughter’s hand. Cersei looked at her, scared. “She can't harm you, my dear. You are safe.” Cersei nodded, and bit her lip. “See? Your Father’s men will protect you.” Cersei straightened her head, narrowing her eyes to the old woman. But then the witch turned, and her eyes met Joanna's, sending a shiver down her spine. The old woman laughed, and spat on the floor. 

“Killing me won't change anything” she cried with her crooked voice. Suddenly, the mob fell quiet. “Nor will it change yours! You're all doomed, Lannisters!” Joanna felt her heart sinking in her feet, hearing Cersei gasp besides her. One of the guards slapped the witch with the back of his hand, breaking her lip, but she only laughed, blood dripping from her mouth. She made such an obscene sight that Joanna wanted to look away, her heart beating hard against her chest.   

“They will pay for their father’s crimes!” screamed the witch, right before the same guard punched her in the stomach. The woman spat at him, and the guard took a step back, cursing. “They will pay!” 

“Shut up!” Yelled Cersei back, letting Joanna’s hand go.  “You are lying! You are lying!” She closed her eyes and covered her ears with her hands. “SHUT UP!” 

“Ser Benedict, this has taken too long!” yelled Joanna, trying to make herself heard over her daughter’s screams and the witch’s sickening laugh “Be over with it!” The man nodded, and made a brusque gesture to the guards. Joanna turned and knelt by Cersei's side. The girl was crying, her eyes firmly closed, shaking her head. “Cersei, my love,” Joanna took her face in her hands, and the girl opened her eyes.. She has my eyes. Do my eyes look as afraid as hers right now?  

“I want to go home,” she sobbed, tears running down her cheeks. 

“We will go home, my love.” The mob roared, and suddenly the witch’ voice was silenced. Joanna turned, only too see a guard showing the witch’ head to the mob. “She's dead now, you see? She cannot harm you, Cersei. You are safe.”  

 

 

 

 

 

 


	19. Jaime VII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own any of the characters or locations mentioned in this fic. They all belong to the great GRRM. 
> 
> Enjoy!

"By now, the girl must be in a pleasure house in Lys,” said the sailor as he spat a mouthful of blood colored phlegm and kept chewing his beloved sourleaf.  "The is always lack of pretty Westerosii whores in Essos, and she was of age. Once, a whoremonger told me he liked to buy them young, before they flower. That way, they are easier to train in the Lyseni love arts. Older girls tend to long for their lost freedom, he told me, and do stupid things like try to escape. They have to remind them they are bedslaves with a whip's kisses, and a whipped whore is never as expensive as an unmarked one. Bad business, the man swore to me." He spat again, this time almost hitting Jaime's boot. “Are all sailors as repulsive as this one?” thought Jaime, trying to keep his eyes from the bloody smear beside his foot. Still, Oberyn did not seem to mind. It seemed he liked nothing better than listening to sailor's tales, as unbelievable as they were sometimes. 

"Is it true that the Essosi mark their slaves, as livestock?" he asked, as he practiced a knot the man had taught him with a foot of rope. The man chewed some more, before giving him an answer.

"Only the Volantene. And not only the whores, but all the slaves. The rope has to pass over, not under" he added, taking the rope from Oberyn's hands to show him. “Like this. See, lad? That way the knot does not slip.” Oberyn pulled the ends, and the weird shaped knot tightened. "Tears for the whores, motley for fools, fire for the red priests... flies and stripes as well, I think." 

"And demons' masks for dangerous slaves,” added Jaime. His uncle Gery had told him once. 

"That's right, lad,” agreed the man, taking the knot once more from Oberyn's hands. He twisted one end and pulled, and the knot disappeared. "Here. Try one more time." 

"My uncle told me he saw this slave in a flesh market in Lys. A bedslave, black as coal, so dark that the ink on her face was hard to distinguish."

"A summer islander, most like"

"Just so. For what my uncle heard, she had clawed the eyes off a man. A customer, so the owner had been forced to pay his family a fortune for the trouble. So he had her sold at the cheapest flesh market."

"The cheapest?" asked Oberyn, lost. "Wasn't he trying to get back his gold?" Jaime shook his head.

"If anyone ever dared to have her as a bedslave in a pleasure house, it would have to be a lesser one."

"Cheap, for travelers with little coin." The man spat once more. "The girl would be raped a hundred times a day, for nothing but a few coppers."

"What are you lads doing still up here?" asked a voice behind Jaime. "What kind of lunatic's tales have you been telling them this time, Donal?" The man stood and bowed his head.

"The little lords asked, and I obliged, m'lord,” said Donal. "Tales from beyond the Narrow Sea."

"Enough for the night, I hope,” said Prince Lewyn. "It's past the hour of the Wolf, lads. Go find your hammocks below deck."

"But Donal was still going to teach me another knot,” protested Oberyn, winning a good clout on the ear for himself, courtesy of his uncle.

"On the morrow, maybe. Below decks. Now,” repeated Prince Lewyn. Jaime smiled to himself, and made his way to the little wooden stair, followed by an angry Oberyn.

"It's stupid,” said Oberyn, as soon as they were safely away from Prince Lewyn's ears. "We should be at Sunspear on the morrow." They found their hammocks, and Jaime began to take off his boots.

"You can always sneak up to the deck as soon your uncle is asleep,” suggested Jaime, hanging his belt with his dagger on one of the posts that held his hammock. Oberyn considered for a moment, before doing the same.

"Maybe I will. Donal told me after Sunspear they are supposed to travel to the Free Cities, and all the way to Qarth. I may never see him again."

"He's a dornishmen,” said Jaime, throwing himself into the hammock. Someone shushed them, and he lowered his voice. "He'll come back to Dorne." 

"Quiet!" Oberyn rolled his eyes, and sat on his hammock. 

"You are right. A dornishmen will always find his way back to Dorne." Jaime said nothing, and closed his eyes. "Mother always tells me..."

"QUIET NOW!" this time, more voices added themselves to the first one.

"Maybe you could tell me on the morrow,” said Jaime, yawning. Annoyed, Oberyn laid on the hammock, and turned his back to Jaime.

Elia was waiting for them on the docks, her yellow dress flowing around her. Her lady mother was beside her, waiting for her brother and son to arrive. 

"Dear Loree,” greeted the prince, kissing his sister's cheek.

"Lewyn. Young Jaime.” She smiled at him, and Jaime tried to smile back, awkward. Jaime had never warmed towards the dornish princess, at least not as he had with Prince Lewyn and Oberyn…and Elia. "Where is my son, Lee?” asked the princess, as his brother kissed Elia's forehead.

"Still on the decks, saying his farewells,” said Prince Lewyn, exasperated. "He'll come to land in the next boat, with our clothing chests."

"Dear Jaime,” smiled Elia, kissing his cheek, ignoring her uncle's voice. "How was the tournament?"

"It was..." After the incident with the king, and Melara's disappearance, Jaime was not sure if he had enjoyed the tournament. 

"Mother told me you fought in the melée, with a dornish spear,” interrupted Elia. Jaime smiled at that.

"I did,” he said, proudly. "And I did not shame myself. Even my father was pleased." He left out the part where his father had deemed the Dornish' weapons as 'inappropiate' for a Westerosi knight.

"I'm so happy for you,” congratulated Elia. "I told mother we should host a tourney as well, and invite..." but Elia's voice was drowned in a sudden fit of coughing. The princess turned to see her daughter, alarmed. The maester leaned behind Elia, but she stopped him with a wave of her hand.

"It's nothing, you do not need to worry,” she told him, breathing hard. The maester gave the princess an exasperated look, and turned his attention once more to Princess Loreza. "I'm sorry,” apologized Elia, smiling thinly. "I was telling you, I told mother we could have our own tourney, for Doran's new babe.”

"Has Mellario already given birth?" asked Jaime. He had completely forgot about Doran's child while he was at the Rock. Elia nodded, and coughed a little. Jaime realized she was trying her best to hide her cough, but said nothing.

"A girl,” she whispered, her voice stifled. Then Jaime realized that Elia's lips were quickly turning blue. "A-Arianne, Dor-D-Do- He, he called her." Another round of coughing shook Elia, and this time she could not hold it back. 

"Are you alright?" asked Jaime, alarmed. "Elia?" But the girl could not stop coughing, and soon the maester and her mother were over her. 

"Breath, my lady, like I told you,” said the man. "Nose and mouth, lungs and stomach."

"I'm-I'm alright,” said Elia, between coughs. "Don't mind me..."

"Maester, please take Elia back to her chambers,” said the princess, pale.

"No, mother, please!" Elia coughed a little more, and her mother shook her head.

"I knew this wasn't a good idea,” said the princess, but if she was talking to herself or someone else, Jaime could not tell.

"It's the sea's wind, my lady,” said the maester, nervously. "It cannot be helped here, in Sunspear…”

"Yes, we have talked about it,” interrupted Princess Loreza. "Just take the child back to her chambers, and do what you must." The man nodded, and a man at arms stepped forward to take the princess in his arms.

"Mother,” coughed Elia, pushing the man away. By now, her lips were completely blue, bruised. "This is ridiculous..." her cough became especially violent, and her mother hurried her maester.

"I wasn't asking, Elia. Take her, now!" The man-at-arms bowed, for a heartbeat, his head to Elia, and picked her up. Jaime watched everything, shaken. 

"Is Elia alright?" he found himself asking. The princess turned to meet his eyes, and for a moment Jaime was sure she had forgotten he was still standing there. 

"A little cold, nothing else,” said the woman, and sighed. "Please, Lee, wait for my son and tell him to come to my solar as soon as he sets his foot in Dorne,” said the princess to her brother. "I will meet you after him. I fear we have a few things to discuss."

"Are you unwell?" asked Jaime in a low voice, sitting besides Elia's bed. It had taken all his skills to convince the maester to let him see Elia, but he had finally managed to bend the man's will. He was bleeding Elia, keeping her in such dim light that Jaime had trouble making out her face, but he clearly saw her rolling her eyes. 

 

"It's just some bloody cold,” said Elia, bitterly. "But mother and maester Caleotte fuss over every little thing, and bleed me so often I'll soon be as dry as an old stick." Jaime held his tongue. Elia's flowing dornish clothes had not let him see before, but now, dressed only in her nightshift, he realized she seemed thinner, more fragile somehow. 

"It'll pass soon, when you get better,” he managed.

"I am better!" threw back Elia, defiantly. 

"It didn't sound like that back at the docks,” pointed Jaime. "It seemed as if you weren't able to breath. You sounded awful, Elia." Jaime immediately regretted his words. Elia did not cry, but Jaime saw her lips trembling, and the threat of making her cry was enough to make Jaime freeze.

"I hate this,” hissed Elia, turning her head to Jaime. "I hate every time they bleed me. Mother won't even let me ride anymore. I told her I wanted to ride to the Water Gardens to meet Doran's babe, but she wouldn't hear it. She told me I could go in a litter, like I was some kind of cripple!"

"Why don't you do it?" proposed Jaime. "Litters aren't that bad. When we rode to King's Landing to meet the king, Cersei and I were in a litter."

"And how old were you?" asked Elia, softly. Jaime remained silent. "Well?"

"We were six,” said Jaime quickly, “but the point is, you are making a fuss over something stupid. If you want to go so badly, ride in the litter!"   Elia met his eyes, silently.  

"You are right. I'm being stupid. It's just I'm so tired of all this... You wouldn't be in a good mood either if your mother had been nagging you from dawn to dusk."

"She's only worried,” tried Jaime. "Do not get angry with her.” Elia smiled to him, and reached for his hand.

"Thank you, Jaime,” she said, giving Jaime's hand a gentle squeeze. Jaime was, for once, grateful for the chamber's darkness; he was certain his ears had reddened with Elia's touch.

It was a fortnight before the Princess allowed Elia to go to the Water Gardens, accompanied by Maester Caleotte and Ser Ulwyck. Elia was only allowed to ride in the litter, while Jaime followed on his palfrey. He felt awkward between Maester Caleotte's mule, Ser Ulwyck's impressive sand steed and Elia's litter. He had tried to talk to her through her litter's small window, but that proved rather unpractical and stupid. Elia had even invited him to join her in the litter, but Jaime had refused. He was almost two and ten, nearly a man grown, and, despite what he had told Elia, he did not wish to be carried all the way like a child. Still, the road was hard and hot, and Ser Ulwyck had never been an especially talkative man. Jaime wished Prince Lewyn and Oberyn had come with them, but the princess told Elia she needed her brother and son for another task. 

Jaime did not even know why he had volunteered to go with Elia to the Water Gardens. Certainly, he was not that interested in Doran's babe... But he did not want to leave Elia alone.  Even thought she hadn't had another coughing fit like the day Jaime arrived, she still worried her mother... and Jaime. In the past fortnight, Jaime had watched Elia closely, and he did not like what he saw. He was right, she was thinner and pale, and had purple eye bags that did not leave her even if she had enough sleep. She coughed all night, and even early in the morning. Sometimes she coughed so hard that her lips and even her nails turned blue, but never as bad as the day at the docks. And the worst part was, the cough never left her.

"It has happened before, in my family,” Oberyn had told him, a few days back. He had a worn piece of oiled leather in his hands, polishing the leaf-shaped metal point of Prince Lewyn's longspear with care. "My grandsire had the disease, and two of the babes mother had before Elia and me. Thing is, my grandsire had the disease since he was a child, and my brothers... well, they did not last long,” he finished, gravely.

"Isn't there a cure, a treatment?" asked Jaime, worried.  He had as well another piece of leather, his task to make Prince Lewyn's shield to shine in the sun like a mirror.

"Leeching, bleeding, fasting, praying... depending who you ask,” said Oberyn with a mocking tone. "My mother told us once that her father controlled his cough with a tea he used to buy from a merchant from Yi Ti. But after he died, well... My mother wasn't married yet, so there was no one else left to sell the leaves to, and the merchant stopped visiting Dorne."

"When I asked, your mother told me it was only a little cold,” reproached Jaime, a little hurt.

"I don't think she wanted to believe that was what was happening to Elia,” said Oberyn in a low voice. "It is an awful disease, really. Its supposed to shut down your lungs, and you can't breath. Sometimes it goes away after a while... but sometimes it doesn't."

So now, Jaime watched Elia closely every time they were together, looking for any sign that could mean another coughing fit. Still, the princess had commanded to move Elia's belonging from her chambers in the Water Gardens to another part of the palace, warmer and with narrower windows, to keep Elia from the worst of Dorne's cold nights. Elia did not fight, for once. She was all over little Arianne, holding her and trying to help Mellario with her clothes and bath and everything she could. Still, things started to grow tense between both princesses. For what Jaime could tell, norvosii were accustomed to feed and raise their own children, without maids or wetnurses to help them out, and the constant presence of so many people in the nursery seemed to stress her. At first Elia tried to ignore it, but it seemed to Jaime that it was harder and harder for her to keep her thoughts to herself. After the first fight between them, Jaime started to avoid the nursery as much as he could, much preferring to walk around the water gardens and the training yard, where he could sing his steel song among the other lads.

"Shield up, Lannister!" mocked one of the lads in the crowd. Jaime gave him a nasty look before charging once more against his opponent. His wooden spear hit the lad in the knees, making him unsteady. Jaime continued forward, hitting him below the arm, where the armor's joint should be, and then once again in the ribs. The lad hit the floor hard, out of breath. 

"Well done, Jaime!" roared Ser Ulwyck with his thick dornish accent, puffed with pride. Jaime saluted him by raising his spear, and saw a man-at-arms paying Ser Ulwyck a few coppers. The other lad was now on his feet, shaking the dust off his clothes. He spat bitterly on the dirt, and Jaime raised an eyebrow.

"Jaime!" called a sweet voice behind him. Elia was waving her hand at him on the other side of the yard, a letter crushed on her hands. Jaime took off his shield, and handed it along with his spear to a boy from the armory. He approached Elia, wiping the sweat off his brow. He waited until he was close enough to Elia to speak without being overheard.

"Elia, what are you doing out here?" he asked. "Caleotte said dust was bad for your-" he stopped himself at the last second. Elia hated when Jaime spoke of her disease "...for you." 

"Oh, get off my back. I'm wearing a veil, I'm not going to breath dirt,” she said, waving her hand. "You are bleeding!" she said, touching Jaime's shoulder, where the spear had hit him. "Are you fighting with a pointed spear already?" If I was fighting with a pointed spear, I'd be bleeding like a butchered big.

"I just got hit really hard,” mumbled Jaime, bitterly. "Let us go inside, Elia. We can talk in there."

"Oh, great. You can come with me to the nursery.” Jaime heard Elia with dismay. The girl began to walk back into the palace, and Jaime had no choice but to follow her.

"B-But Elia! I'm covered in dirt and sweat,” he tried, as Elia took off her veil and threw it carelessly to the floor. Jaime stopped and picked it up. "Mellario will not even let me in!"

"That's the best part,” said Elia, smiling. "Mellario is sleeping. Arianne is alone with the wetnurse." Jaime followed reluctantly, thinking of different excuses to leave the nursery as soon as he could.

"A raven?" asked Jaime, eyeing the letter still crushed between Elia's fingers.

"From Oberyn,” said Elia, giving Jaime a meaningful look.

"Oberyn? Not your mother?" Elia shook her head, and entered the nursery. That kept Jaime interested enough to follow her inside. Elia ignored the wetnurse, throwing the letter on the table, and walked directly to the babe's cradle. 

"Hello, Arianne,” said Elia in a soft voice, with a smile wide on her face. She gently picked up the babe, and kissed her on the forehead. Jaime waited a little impatiently as he watched Elia sitting in the cushioned chair beside the cradle. 

"Elia, will you ever tell me...?"

"Shh. Not so loud. You'll wake her up." Jaime rolled his eyes, exasperated. 

"I think I'll take a bath and afterwards..."

"Mother is sending Oberyn away,” interrupted Elia in a hushed voice, eyeing Jaime.

"Away?" asked Jaime, a little too loud. The babe moved in her swaddling clothes, and Elia gave Jaime a warning look. "Do you mean, to foster?" he asked, lowering his voice once more. Elia nodded, and stood up. The babe kept moving, and had begun to wake. Elia walked around the nursery, rocking the babe in her arms, but before long the child was crying loudly.

"This was a bad idea,” said Jaime, nervously. The wetnurse approached Elia, but she sent her away with a gesture. A door opened, and Mellario rushed to the nursery, still fussing with the laces of her bedrobe.

"Marya, I told you to wake me up if Arianne was hungry..." She stopped  when she saw Elia holding the crying babe, and her eyes moved to Jaime, all covered in dirt and sweat, the blood stain still fresh on his shoulder. "Elia, Jaime.” She bowed her head to them, before giving the wetnurse a murderous look.

"Mellario,” called Elia. "She's not hungry, she just woke up."

"And how would you know?" asked Mellario, sweetly. Jaime saw Elia's face turn into stone, as Mellario took the babe from her arms. "I asked, good sister, not to touch Arianne while you are still sick,” she continued, caressing the babe's head. 

"I'm not sick!" threw back Elia, white with anger. "She's my niece, I just wanted to see her. That's the whole reason I came here."

"I do not think it's appropriate..."

"Doran told me I could come and see her anytime I wanted,” interrupted Elia, defiantly. Mellario said nothing, watching Elia intently. She made a gesture to the wetnurse, who quickly approached with a blanket. She covered the babe, and Mellario's shoulder. Elia rolled her eyes as Mellario fed the babe under the blanket, as it was custom in Norvos.

"You can stay,” said Mellario, finally. "Just don't come too close." 

"I think we should leave,” said Jaime under his breath to Elia, but the girl just took his hand and dragged him to the little table on the other side of the nursery.

"We are not giving her what she wants,” mumbled Elia, coolly.

"And do not touch any of Arianne's stuff, please!" added Mellario.

"Can you believe her?" said Elia, angrily. She threw herself in the chair, and crossed her arms.

"Calm down,” tried Jaime, eyeing Mellario. "Just tell me about Oberyn." Elia did not speak, still watching Mellario as she fed the babe.

"Such a ridiculous custom... To feed the poor child under that stupid blanket,” Elia snorted, before taking back the letter from the table. "Mother is sending Oberyn as squire, with the Bloodroyal,” she said, handing the letter to Jaime. He read it quickly, straightening the crushed paper as much as he could. Most of it was Oberyn’s insolent opinion of Lord Yronwood.

“Oberyn will not like that,” said Jaime, handing the letter back to Elia. “He would sooner squire for Lord Harmen.” 

“I know, and mother does as well, make no mistake,” said Elia. “But the Yronwoods are the most powerful house in Dorne, after us, something alike to the Reynes of your Westerlands. Mother always says we must be careful, when handling Yronwoods.” Ask me how my father handled the Reynes, and the Tarbecks.  

“It’s so barbaric,” said Mellario, from the other side of the nursery. Elia turned, annoyed. "I cannot understand how you Westerosii use your children as coin.” Elia turned to face her, angrily.

“It is not barbaric, it is custom. To show your trust and appreciation of the fellow house. That’s why Jaime is here, that’s how our mothers met. Maybe your children will go to Casterly Rock someday, when Jaime becomes lord.” Jaime felt his face redden. He never liked being in the middle of an argument, less so if it was one between Elia and Mellario. 

“Never. I would not allow it, and Doran would never make me.” 

“Doran will be Prince of Dorne someday,” snapped Elia back, tossing her braid behind her shoulder, angrily “If anyone’s children are going to be wards, they are his, and yours.” Mellario looked at her as if she would like to hit the princess. 

“I think we should leave,” said Jaime, jumping to his feet. He offered Elia a hand, who took it reluctantly. 

“Yes, best if you go,” said Mellario, fixing her babe’s swaddling clothes “Else I may tell Doran what happened here.” Elia turned so violently that she pulled Jaime with her. 

“Oh, will you?” she threw back “Go on, hide behind my brother, as you always do.” 

“That’s enough, Elia,” said Jaime, pulling her hand. Elia turned and stormed out of the nursery furiously, walking so fast that Jaime almost had to run to keep up with her. 

“Elia, wait!” he managed, following her through the stairs.  

“She knows I hate when she makes comments like that,” yelled Elia, without looking back to Jaime. “Always calling us savages, or barbaric!” She threw the doors of her solar open, making so much noise that Jaime was sure all the castle had heard. “She believes herself better than us!” She took a cup from her little table and threw it against the wall. Cersei would have aimed for my head, thought Jaime, rushing to Elia, who was now reaching for the flagon of wine.

“Elia, stop!” yelled Jaime, holding her wrists. Elia’s dark eyes shone dangerously, and Jaime almost took a step back. Elia could be very dangerous when angered; even Oberyn knew that. 

“Let go of me, Jaime Lannister,” warned Elia. With her flushed cheeks and wild hair, she had never looked so much like Oberyn as she did now. That almost made Jaime laugh, which proved to be a mistake. Elia threw herself at Jaime, trying to free herself. 

“Elia, don’t be stupid, stop,” said Jaime, but he did not let her go. She had managed to kick him quite hard on the shin, and he would not risk being hit by her. However, it worried him that he might bruise her wrists if he kept holding her like that. 

“Don’t call me stupid, you prick!” she yelled, trying to kick him between the legs. Careful, now.  

“Alright, alright!” said Jaime, raising his hands. Elia stopped herself just before she hit him on the face. “Just… stop breaking things, please.” Elia gave him a funny look, and then laughed. 

“I’m sorry, Jaime. I know this is not your fault.” She threw herself into a chair, and sighed. “Did you hear her, telling me to stay away from Arianne? As if I was some walking plague.” She stayed quiet for a few heartbeats. "It's not contagious, you know?" She added, “it's just some stupid disease my family has."

"I know,” said Jaime, awkwardly. "Do not think about that."

"It’s just... she makes me so mad!” 

“I can tell,” jested Jaime, sitting next to her. “Why does it bother you so much?” She smiled sadly at him. 

“I do not know. It’s just, I have never been close to Doran, not like I am with Oberyn, or even you. And I feel she only makes him, I don’t know, even more distant from us?” She sighed again. “Even Mother can tell. He tries too hard to please her, and I don’t think that’s the way he should act. Less so if he’s my mother’s heir.” 

“Why don’t you or your mother talk to him?” offered Jaime, even though he knew it was a weak advice. Elia let go a little laugh. 

 “Because men are fools, dear Jaime,” she said, smiling to him. “And they seldom listen to their mothers, even less when they are blinded by love.” Jaime laughed, and hugged Elia.  

Elia let her head rest on Jaime’s shoulder for a moment, before turning and giving him a kiss on the forehead. Jaime could feel his ears reddening, awkwardly.  

“I’m going to miss Oberyn,” he confessed, letting Elia go. She clacked her tongue, and gave him a playful smile. 

“We are talking about Oberyn Nymeros Martell,” she said. “I’m sure he will find his way out of Lord Edgar’s hands before the winter comes, to my mother’s distress.” Jaime laughed.  

"Winter?” said Jaime. “I do not think so. Autumn, most likely.” Elia smiled at that. 

“Do you want to make a bet?” she offered with a wicked grin. 

“A bet? That isn’t very ladylike.” Elia raised her head, defiantly. 

“So? Are you going to tell my mother?” she dared. 

“Oh, never” promised Jaime. “I will never risk your fury again, believe me,” he added, and Elia gave him a playful push. 

“So, if I win,” began Elia, thinking. “If I win, I get your lion pin,” she proposed, smiling. 

“My pin?”  

“What? Afraid of losing?”  

“Of course not. But if you lose, you'll have to give me something of yours as well,” he said, without thinking much. Elia smiled, and took Jaime’s hand. 

“Deal!”


	20. Cersei VI

This characters and locations, as well as the universe of A Song of Ice and Fire, belong to the great GRRM. I do not own any of them.

She was walking in the woods, a tiny girl among tall sentinels, her riding boots crushing the red carpet of autumn leaves with every step she took. She knew she was lost, but she did not want to admit it to herself. I only need to follow the sun, she told herself. The sun will take me back to the sea, and back to the Rock. Still, she had a roof of leaves above herself, making it hard to tell which way the sun would set.

"We are lost," wailed Melara behind her, unhelpfully. "Cersei, night is almost upon us, and we have no shelter nor food."

"Shut up," ordered Cersei, annoyed. "Just follow me." Jaime would help me find the way, she thought. He wouldn't be crying like a babe.

"Cersei!" called the girl, weeping. "Cersei, please!" Her screaming made Cersei's skin crawl. "PLEASE! I'M HURT!" Despite herself, Cersei turned to face her companion, and screamed. Melara stared back at her from the dirt, her legs twisted in sickening angles. Her skin was bloated and pale, dripping water as her hands reached for Cersei. She jumped back, and fell to the floor, crawling away from the dead girl.

"You are all doomed, Lannister!"

Cersei looked frantically around her, suddenly fearing for her own life.

"And when your tears have drowned you…"

Cersei turned, only in time to see a Valyrian sphinx coming down to her. A woman's face with a mouth full of dark fangs smiled at her with mockery.

"…The valonqar shall wrap his hands about your pale white throat and choke the life from you!"

"CERSEI, PLEASE!" kept yelling Melara. "PLEASE, I DON'T WANT TO DIE!"

Cersei screamed, feeling the beast's hands shaking her violently, hearing Melara's terrible cries.

"CERSEI! CERSEI, PLEASE!"

"CERSEI!"

"Cersei, please, wake up! Cersei, my love!" Cersei opened her eyes suddenly, her heart beating fast in her chest. It was Lady Joanna who was shaking her, and calling her name. She let Cersei go, with a worried look in her eyes. Cersei moved to sit, but her mother forced her to remain laying down "Bad dreams again?" she asked, and Cersei nodded, ashamed. "Do you want me to send for maester Creylen?" Cersei considered for a heartbeat, and then shook her head.

"It's alright, Mother," she tried. "He said it would take some time before the bad dreams stop. I'll just go back to sleep." Lady Joanna sighed, and gave her a kiss on the forehead. She made a gesture to her chambermaid, who snuffed the candle she was holding. The girl left the room, leaving Cersei and her mother to their dreams once more. Cersei waited for sleep to come in the dark, even after Lady Joanna fell asleep again. She had taken into slipping into her mother's bedchamber every time she dreamed about Maggy, Melara or the Valonqar, which was often, to the point that Lady Joanna made her sleep with her every night. At first it shamed Cersei to be seen by the servants every morning, sleeping in her mother's bed like some child, but she couldn't stand sleeping alone. When she told Lady Joanna so, she waved her hand, taking importance off the topic.

"What the servants think shouldn't be your concern," said Lady Joanna. "They are here to serve, not to judge." Still, Cersei decided she would stop sleeping in her mother's bed as soon as her cousins arrived. She was two and ten now, almost a woman grown, and she did not want to be mocked by them.

Cersei's cousins arrived at the Rock within a moon's turn after the witch's execution. Cersei greeted them at the Lion Gate, along with her aunt Genna, her sons, and her lady mother. She had never met her uncle Stafford's family, and she had been quite lonely since Jeyne left her, even if she hadn't been very pleasant company in her last days with Cersei. She knew them by name, if not by sight, but she could assume the older lad was her cousin Devan, who was almost of age with her. He had a lionish mane, pug nose and was easy to laugh; oddly, he reminded Cersei of her own twin, Jaime. His little sister was called Cerelle, a girl of four with red curls and freckled nose, supposedly the living image of Cersei's great grandmother.

"Brother!" Lady Joanna hugged uncle Stafford dearly. "I've missed you."

"And we've missed you, Joanna," said the man. "Devan, Cerelle. This is your aunt Joanna, and your cousin Cersei."

Cleos and Lyonel she already knew, as they had been residents of the Rock before, along with aunt Genna. They had arrived a few days before Devan and Cerelle, and now Cleos shared Cersei's lessons and meals. Devan joined them soon, to Cersei's amusement. She found her cousins easier to relate to than her former companions. Like the time when Jaime and I were still together.

The Rock was crowded, even if not as crowded as it was during the tournament. Cersei was glad. Of late, she had spent more time with her mother, more than she had since before Tyrion was born, and had realized how sad her mother seemed. She hardly smiled, and when she did, she looked even sadder. Maybe she misses Jaime, thought Cersei, as her lady mother brushed her golden curls. She had told his brother so, in a letter she had sent to him with a trading cog. All she could only hope was that the arrival of uncle Stafford would cheer her up.

Still, it proved to be a false hope. Lady Joanna was withering like an autumn rose, paler and thinner, and nothing that Cersei did or said seemed to work. She had even taken to playing Come-Into-My-Castle with her dwarf brother, to please her, to no avail.

"I don't know what else to do," she had told her auntie Genna, as they sat side by side in the Golden Sept. Her mother was at the Mother's altar, praying on her knees.

"Do not worry about your mother, love," her aunt had said, trying to calm her down. "Just be good, Cersei, and you'll see her smiling soon enough. Now, back to your prayers, child." Cersei turned her head back to the Maiden, and said her prayers under her breath. Her body was changing now, so her aunt Genna and Septa Saranella were teaching her the appropriate ways of a maid, and what to expect in the holy service on Maiden's Day. Her mother hadn't been very happy about it, but auntie Genna had insisted.

"Look at the girl, Joanna," she had said, as the seamstress measured Cersei's hips with a knotted string. All her gowns had fit her awkwardly, as they were clearly made for a child, so her mother had no choice but to summon the dressmaker. "It won't be long before she flowers, and she needs to be ready! She's on the cusp of maidenhood!" Her mother finally agreed, but Cersei was almost sure she had seen her mother's eyes water before she left the chamber.

"You have a new gown," said her cousin Devan, as they walked to the training yard. Again, Ser Benedict had highborn boys to train, and her cousins had invited her to see them at their training.

"Four new gowns," corrected Cersei. "Though only two are ready. Auntie Genna wanted to have six gowns made, but maester Creylen believes I might grow a few inches still, so Mother said I could have three more done when I reach my full height."

"A few more inches?" said Cleos "You are already taller than us!"

"And she will always be taller than you, that's for sure," mocked Devan. "Me, I don't think so. My father is tall, and he told me he didn't stop growing until he was six and ten. I still have to five namedays to reach Cersei." He was right, Cersei knew. Her cousin was as tall as her, despite being younger, and strong for his age. She smiled, and patted her cousin's lionish mane.

"But until then, you are my little cousin," she teased.

"I'm tall too!" said Lyonel behind them, and Cleos laughed. The boy was yet to see his fourth name day, and he and Tyrion followed Cleos and Devan everywhere.

"You, tall? You can barely reach my chest!" Lyonel made a face to his brother, and stuck his tongue out.

"I'm taller than Tyrion, and he is four!" Cersei looked away, uncomfortable.

"You are not!" said Tyrion, angrily.

"I am!"

"You are both of the same height," lied Devan. "Now, stay quiet, or we'll send you back to the nursery like the babes you are."

"I'm not a babe," threw back Tyrion. "I want to fight."

"You are too young to fight. You can't even lift a sword, and besides..." Cleos pinched Lyonel's nose. "You couldn't even tell one end from the other."

"He can't, but I can!" insisted Tyrion.

"Cleos is right," said Cersei. "Boys don't train until they reach five namedays," she lied. "Even Jaime." Their brother's name claimed Tyrion's attention.

"Is it true?" he asked Devan, and their cousin nodded.

"Why would Cersei lie to you?" As they walked through the kitchens, Devan snatched some honeyed biscuits, still hot from the oven.

"Do not think I didn't see you, little lord!" yelled old Diane, the cook. She came at them, her wooden spoon moving menacing in the air.

"Run!" said Devan, picking Tyrion up with one arm. Cleos took Lyonel, and followed Cersei as they ran to the training yard, laughing.

"Let me go!" commanded Tyrion, moving his legs furiously. Devan had him under his arm like a bag of potatoes, and Tyrion kicked and hit him, making Devan laugh louder.

"Stop that, or you won't get your biscuit!" That kept the boy still. Devan gave him and Lyonel a honeyed biscuit each, and the other three to Cersei.

"Keep them safe until we return, my lady," he jested, and Cersei smiled.

"Is this supposed to be a token a knight gives to his lady?" she mocked, taking a bite of the biscuit. "Well, I guess we are not in the Age of Heroes anymore."

"Just try to keep them from eating our biscuits," said Cleos, pointing at the boys. Lyonel was picking crumbs from his clothes, and Tyrion was licking honey from his own fingers.

"Cleos, Devan!" roared Ser Benedict, and the lads jumped, startled. "What are you waiting for, summer?" Cersei laughed, seeing her cousins rushing to the Master-at-arms.

"I still want to fight," complained Tyrion.

"Enough with that. Ser Benedict will decide when you are ready." If you are ever ready."If you want to learn, watch them train. Listen to Ser Benedict."

The old master-at-arms arranged the boys according to age groups, as he did when Jaime still lived at The Rock with Cersei. The older lads, already squires, fought among themselves in armor, with tourney swords with blunted edges. Father liked the squires to be ready for their first war, she had heard him say once, and wars were seldom fought with wood. Younger boys still practiced with wooden swords, padded in cushioned armors.

"Not you, Clegane!" called Ser Benedict. "Leave the other squires alone!" A giant of a lad spat in the dirt, before obeying the man. He was taller and far more muscled than the rest of the squires, even thought his wisp of beard denoted he couldn't be more than five and ten.

"What about my little brother?" said Clegane in a mocking voice. "Are you going to pair him again with the children, or is he man enough to fight with us?"

"I think I'm still the Master-at-arms of Casterly Rock, Clegane. And I shall decide who he fights," threw back Ser Benedict. That was when Cersei noticed the boy behind Ser Benedict. The lad was tall as well, and may have looked like his self-claimed older brother, if half of his face wasn't so terribly burned. The other half was red with rage for his brother's mocking, as he and the other lads laughed. Sons of petty lords and lowborn folk, Cersei gathered, by their common, unremarkable faces.

Ser Benedict yelled a command, and the westermen began to play their steel song. The training yard of the Rock had always been a busy spot, full of men and boys both lowborn and highborn, from kennelmaster's whelp to Cersei's own uncles. Lord Tywin liked his men well trained.

Ser Benedict walked among the youngest boys, while the men trained in their own accord. Cersei could make from afar her uncle Tygett forcing his opponent to his knees, handsome and fierce. Of all of Cersei's uncles, uncle Tyg was known to be the best fighter, although Lord Tywin was a better commander in war. Uncle Tygett may be good at beating foes, but Father was made to win wars.

"Devan will beat your brother," said Tyrion to his cousin. Cersei turned her face to see Tyrion was right. Devan was all over his cousin, his sword swinging without mercy over Cleos' shield. He made for Cleos' flank, but Cleos moved sideways, and managed to hit Devan's thigh. Devan lost his balance and landed in the dirt, to Tyrion's clear dismay. Cleos charged against his cousin, but Devan rolled aside, and struggled to find his feet as Cleos turned to charge once more. Devan barely managed to lift his shield to meet his cousin's sword.

"Cleos is winning!" cheered Lyonel.

"Devan, on your feet!" yelled Ser Benedict. "You cannot fight from the ground!" Devan tried to rise, pushing Cleos with his own shield. He finally managed to meet his cousin blow after blow, forcing him to take a step back. Devan saw his opportunity and attacked from the left; as Cleos turned to meet the blow with his own sword, the sun met him full in the face, blinding him. Devan let out a cry, slashing at Cleos' chinless face, and the boy fell. Devan sword found his throat, and Cleos threw his arms up, yielding.

"Well fought!" praised the master-at-arm, as Devan helped Cleos up. "Remember to keep the sun at your back, lads! And use your shield to block the sword, Frey! It would have protected your eyes from the sun in a way a sword cannot." Cleos nodded, loosing the straps of his shield. "Devan, with Westerling. Cleos, go rest. You go again when Devan is done." Cersei handed her cousin a biscuit.

"Tyrion, Lyonel, make room for Cleos." Her cousin sat besides her, a sullen look in his eyes. "You did well," she said. "You managed to put Devan on his back, for a moment." Cleos only grunted in response.

By then, Elys Westerling was already clashing his sword against Devan's. Cersei was surprised to see how tall Elys was; she remembered him fighting Jaime and Marbrand when they were younger, although he had never been a match for Jaime. Few were, truth to be told.

"Two coppers on Ser Stafford's lad," mumbled a knight behind Cersei. She smiled. The man was likely to win; Devan had cornered Elys, and was delivering blows mercilessly.

"Devan!" cheered Cersei.

"Casterly Rock!" Tyrion echoed her, and even Cleos joined the cheer. Then, Elys did a strange thing. Instead of trying to push Devan away, he rolled on the ground, away from Devan. Devan's sword hit empty air, and the boy struggled to keep his balance, only in time to meet the side-blow Elys threw at him. Devan met the blow with his shield. He put all his strength behind the shield, forcing Elys to take a step back, and then another, and another. Devan lifted his sword over his head, and slashed at Elys. Elys jumped backward, and lost his footing…

...crashing against the older Clegane.

Clegane was fighting at the time, and Elys sent him straight to the floor. The knight he was fighting with burst into laughter, as Clegane cursed and shook his dirt stained clothes. Elys was still trying to rise when Clegane fell on him with his tourney sword.

Cersei covered her mouth with her hands, paralyzed. Elys was curled up in the dirt, trying to protect his head from Clegane's vicious blows. The man Clegane was fighting jumped to hold him, only to receive Clegane's elbow to his face. More men rushed to the boys, pulling Clegane from poor Elys.

"You take him!" yelled one of the knight to Devan and Cleos. Both boys helped Elys on his feet, away from Clegane.

"CLEGANE! Clegane, with me!" roared the man. The lad shook off the men who were holding him. He gave Ser Benedict a nasty look, defiant, as the master-at-arms approached him. The whole yard had gone silent "Are you deaf, boy?" Clegane spat, but finally resolved to follow the man.

"What in the seven hells was that?" mumbled Cersei to her cousins. Both boys were still holding Elys. Westerling was breathing fast, blood trickling from his left eyebrow.

"He has always been like that," managed Elys, wiping the blood off his face.

"We have to take you to maester Creylen, lad" said one of the knights, and Westerling nodded.

"Was he alright?" asked Tyrion, approaching his cousins.

"Only a scratch," Devan told him soothingly. "But Clegane could have seriously hurt him." Silence followed, broken only by the mumbling of men leaving the yard.

"Let's go back to The Rock," resolved Cleos, taking his little brother's hand. "I do not think Ser Benedict will come back any time soon." Devan nodded, and they made their way back to the castle. Behind them, other lads followed, still dusty from training, laughing and japing.

"I thought they kept him in the menagerie," said a voice behind Cersei, followed by some chuckles. She blushed, and pretended not to notice, but Devan turned. "I thought I'd never meet the little dwarf."

"What did you call him?" asked Devan, giving the lad a nasty look. The other boy raised his chin, defiantly. They were the same lads who had been laughing with Clegane in the yard, Cersei realized.

"Nothing but what he is." Devan threw himself towards him almost immediately. Cersei held him by the arm, but her cousin was tall for his age, and strong besides, and she knew she couldn't hold him by herself.

"Cleos, help me!" commanded Cersei, and her cousin jumped forward to hold Devan. "Let him be, Devan." She said in a low voice. Her cousin gave her an astonished look.

"This lowborn arse insults our family, and you tell me to let him be?" Cersei found herself lost to words, for once. Devan turned to the other boy, and spat in the dirt. "For respect to my cousin Cersei, I will not break your teeth, as I'd like to. But if I ever hear you again, you'll not be so lucky." He shook Cersei's hands off him, gave the boy a last warning look, and approached his little cousin. He took Tyrion's hand, and walked away.

"We should go as well," said Cleos in a low voice, and Cersei nodded. They followed Devan through the dusty training yard in an awkward silence. It wasn't until they were climbing the infinite stairs of The Rock that Cleos spoke. "He is right, you know?" he said, eyeing Cersei. "We cannot let them make fun of any of us, not even Tyrion. If they laugh at us, they will not fear or respect our house anymore. We cannot let that happen, ever again. Hasn't your lord father told you of Lord Tytos?"

"Of course I know about him." The toothless lion of Lannister. "But... Cleos, he is a dwarf. Everyone will always make fun of him!" she said. "What should we do? Defend him from anyone who dares to mock him?"

"Yes, that's exactly what we do!" said Cleos, looking at her, incredulous. "That how is done in the Twins. It does not matter if you are a bastard, or lame or the third born son of my grandsire's fifth marriage. We take care of each other, no matter what. Blood runs thicker than water, I heard my grandsire once tell my father." He held Cersei by the wrist, to make her look at him. "Cersei, if they insult Tyrion, they insult you, and your lord father, and every single one of us. And if we let them insult us, soon more Reynes and Castemeres will start to pop from the mines. Yes, they fear your father, but what of Jaime, when he becomes lord? Or even you. Do you think there would be a lord willing to marry his heir to a daughter of a weak house?" that gave Cersei pause. She watched her cousin climb the stairs, until she lost sight of him.

"Does anyone of you remember what was the name of Princess Rhaenyra's dragon?" asked the maester, toying with the chain on his neck. A few heartbeats passed in silence, but then her cousin Cleos raised his hand, awkward. "Yes, Cleos?"

"Was it Meleys?" Maester Creylen shook his head. That prompted Cersei.

"Meleys was the Red Queen, dragon of Rhaenys, the Queen who never was" she said quickly.

"Very good, little lady," said the maester, smiling at her. "Do you perchance remember the name of Princess Rhaenyra's dragon?" Cersei made an effort to think, but she could not remember the beast's name. She finally shook her head. "Devan?" the boy scratched his pug nose, thinking.

"Syrax!" yelled Cleos, so loud that Cersei jumped on her seat. "Rhaenyra's dragon was Syrax!"

"Seven hells, Cleos!" threw Devan. "Could you not be that loud?"

"Watch your language, Devan," called the maester. "There is a lady in the chamber."

"But he scared Cersei too!" said Devan.

"I wasn't scared," said Cersei, turning to face her cousin.

"Oh, please. You almost fall off your chair when this arse started screaming!"

"Hey!" Cleos hit Devan in the arm. "Don't call me an arse, you prick!"

"Children!" The three cousins fell quiet "You are right, Cleos. Rhaenyra's dragon was named Syrax." The man turned, searching among his books and parchment rolls. "History books will tell you, Rhaenyra first rode her dragon when she was yet to see her ninth nameday. She was the daughter of King Viserys the first, and..." The maester kept talking, but none of the children were listening anymore. Cersei watched, amused, her cousin Devan trying to hit Cleos as silently as possible. Cleos, on the other hand, had slid to the edge of his chair, trying to keep distance from his cousin's fist.

"Stop that, you stupid!" whispered Cersei, eyeing the maester. "He's going to see you!"

In half a heartbeat, Devan lost his balance and fell hard against the floor, chair and all, with a loud crash. Cersei and Cleos burst into laughter, as the maester scolded their cousin Devan.

"Wait until the morrow," mumbled Devan later, as they ate their dinner together. "Let us see if you will laugh at me again, sword in hand."

"I'll be more concerned about learning the names of the dragons of the Greens and the Blacks," said Cleos, taking a bite from his fork.

"Cleos is right," said Cersei. "Creylen will not leave you alone if you don't answer tomorrow either."

"Will you come to the yard again tomorrow?" asked Devan, cutting his meat. He tried to look like he did not care, but Cersei knew both her cousins liked to show off in front of her. Jaime was the same, when me and mother came to the yard to see him fight. She hadn't been in the training yard since the Clegane incident, and it seemed that not having a crowd to cheer for them made fighting less fun to her cousins.

"I don't think so," she finally said. "Tomorrow I am to meet my mother, to light more candles for Melara."

"Oh. Well, maybe you could come down, once you are finished," suggested Cleos. Cersei smiled, and nodded, knowing it was highly unlikely she would be done that early. The past three moon turns, mother had taken Cersei with her to the Golden Sept, to pray for Melara's soul, and to light candles for her mother's sake. The poor woman was said to be almost mad with grief after her daughter's bones were given to them by the silent sisters.

"I want to go," said little Tyrion, on his chair besides Cleos. He was standing up on the chair, trying to grab some bread from the other side of the table.

"Me too," added Lyonel quickly, smashing his spoon on the table with all the authority of a boy of three.

"Tyrion, stop that," said Cersei, watching her little brother knock Cleos' cup into his lap. Cleos jumped to his feet, cursing loudly in a way that would have scandalized maester Creylen. Tyrion stared at Cersei sheepishly, picking the cup up.

"But I can't reach it," he said apologetically, sitting back.

"Then ask for it," said Cersei, handing him the basket of fried bread. The boy took one, and thanked her. "And apologize to Cleos."

"I'm sorry, cousin," said Tyrion, taking a bite of bread. Cleos eyed his little cousin angrily, but Cersei's face made him nod.

"Good," said Cersei. "You can ask auntie Genna if she can come to the training yard with you and Lyonel on the morrow." The boys would not dare insult Tyrion with aunt Genna present, Cersei hoped.

Still, she had taken care of the brutes who had laughed at Tyrion a fortnight before. She had thought about Cleos' words, over and over again for days. Why would the prince want to marry her, if commoners were allowed to mock their lord's family with impunity? She had her beauty, yes, and the Lannisters of Casterly Rock were a family as highborn as one could get, but royal marriages were also about strength. No one was stronger than Lord Tywin, but Cleos was right: if the realm thought Lord Tywin's children to be weak, they were doomed, and her marriage as well. But she was not a weakling, as Clegane's brutes soon found out.

"Do you know who I am?" she had asked, when she met them in the armory. Some of they grunted, and the rest nodded. It was the one who had called Tyrion a dwarf who answered.

"Lord Tywin's daughter. The Lady Cersei," he said, scratching his ear. He had dirty sandy blonde hair, and an unremarkable face of a commonborn whelp.

"Yes, I am Cersei Lannister. Twin of your future lord, Jaime, and sister to Tyrion Lannister." The lads gave her a blank stare, lost. "I just wanted to remind you, as it seemed that you forgot who you were talking to." She gave them a sweet smile "Will you tell me your name?"

"Rafford, my lady. But they call me Raff."

"Raff, then. Let me tell you something, Raff." She leaned closer to him. "If it comes to my knowledge that you have been mocking or insulting my family, ever again," she smiled at him, "I will have my father's men have your tongue removed with hot pincers." The boy paled, and it took all of Cersei's strength not to laugh. "Believe me, I will. Have you heard of Ser Ilyn Payne? My father doesn't mind having mutes in his household. Men-at-arm and guards do not need a tongue to serve him." She eyed the rest of the lads, who had grown silent. "And that goes to all of you. One single word about my brother, and you will have a harder time laughing at Clegane's wit." She gathered her skirts, and gave them all a sweet smile. "Do I make myself clear?" she asked.

"Yes, my lady," said Raff, and was soon echoed by the rest.

"Good. Now, to the training yard. Ser Benedict must be wondering where you are."


	21. Jaime VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I owe you all an apology. I'd like to apologize and explain all of you who had followed my fanfic for abandoning for so long. Last year, shortly after I published my Cersei's chapter, while I was working at the hospital, my laptop, my wallet and my stethoscope were stolen. As I write mostly on Quoll Writer, all my future chapters and advances on this story were lost. I had only a few chapters by hand and an old back up online. This downhearted me big time, as I had no means to retrieve all the writing I already had on this fanfic. It wasn't until a few weeks ago that I decided not to let this fic die incomplete, not when I already had most of the story... at least in my head. So I reached my beta (who is a sweetheart and stuck by me despite everything) and sent her the following chapters... And now we are here again with more chapters for you. I want to thank you for reading, after a year with no updates. I promise, I will try to update frecuently. I hope you enjoy the next two chapters, despite being short one... and again, thank you!
> 
> TLC

On their last day in the Water Gardens, Jaime went to bed early. The farewell feast had been a little affair, with Doran and just a few of his men sharing meat and mead in honor of the princess' departure for Sunspear.

"She didn't even bother to come," said Elia in a low bitter voice, as her brother spoke a few words of farewell for the guests. Jaime's eyes went from the prince to Ser Ulwyck, making sure he wasn't watching them.

"Why would you want her here? You don't even like her." Jaime tried to move his lips as little as possible, as to not offend Prince Doran. He knew he was indulgent regarding Elia's manners, but he did not think he would grant Jaime the same treatment.

"It's just rude," declared Elia, stubbornly. "I will tell my mother, see if I won't!"

" _And how could that be of help?_ " thought Jaime, raising his cup with the rest of the guests. He drank a few gulps of wine, and took his seat next to Elia.

The feast went on as a quiet affair, with only a bard and a lute playing the usual songs to entertain them. Jaime had the notion that the prince had chosen deliberately to keep the noise at a minimum to please his lady wife. " _Elia has the right of it in that,"_  thought Jaime.  _"Doran does go lengths to keep Mellario content."_

He tasted the roasted kid with lemons that the heir of Dorne had sent him, still listening to Elia's ramblings.

"Did you know she did not even want me to see Arianne before we left?" she said bitterly, cutting her meat furiously.

"Careful Elia," warned Nymella Toland, smiling. "A little harder and you might cut through your plate and the table as well."

Elia gave the redhead girl a sharp look.

"Oh, don't be so bitter princess," said Dagos Manwoody. He was the heir of Kingsgrave, and a guest in the Water Gardens with his brother Myles. He refilled Elia's cup with dornish red. "The babe is Doran's heir. She will be sent to Sunspear as soon as she talks to receive a proper education for a princess of Dorne." He took a bite from his fork. "Mellario will not be able to keep her from you then."

Elia was ready to spit her answer when Jaime squeezed her hand. "Dagos is right," said Jaime. "And it won't help you getting mad about it."

"I'm telling my mother," said Elia under her breath.

"On the morrow," agreed Jaime. "Now just eat so we can sleep early".

Without proper music and being so few, the hall began to empty as soon as the sun set.

"Do not stay up late, young Jaime," called Ser Ulrick, a few seats away. The knight was already on his feet, ready to leave the hall. "Else, the heat on your head will do you in out on the sands." Jaime smiled, and nodded to the man.

But the gods and Elia had other plans for him.

"Jaime. Jaime, wake up!"

Lost in his dreams, Jaime thought he was back at the Rock, with Cersei ever waking him up in the middle of the night. "Go away," he mumbled. A pinch on the arm followed, and Jaime woke up at once. Elia was leaning over him, a mischievous smile on her face.

"You are a heavy sleeper, aren't you?" Behind her, Doran's wards chuckled.

"What is it, Elia?" asked Jaime, pushing his sheets away.

"Show her, Ellaria." Lord Harmen's bastard had a bottle of dornish red in each hand.

"Doran is not going to be very happy."

"Nor Mellario," said Elia, self confident. Jaime just rolled his eyes. "Come on, Jaime!"

"Don't be such a coward, Lannister," jested Dagos. His brother Myles grinned behind him, and Jaime jumped off his bed, angrily.

"If we get caught, I swear Elia..."

"Oh, shut up," said the princess, pulling her cloak over her head. Jaime took his own cloak and followed her and the other wards. Nymella Toland held a candle to light their way, making her long red braid look afire. By the time they reached the marbled gardens, Jaime regretted not wearing slippers at least. The marble floor felt ice cold below his feet.

"This way," called Elia in a low voice. The chamber she had chosen for their little adventure was warm enough, though it smelled dusty, as if it had been unoccupied for a long while. Nymella was busy lighting a few more candles, and the Manwoody brothers pulled another two bottles from a bag, as well of some cups and even a drinking horn.

"Where are we, Elia?" asked Jaime. The princess was already sitting on the carpet, Ellaria at her left.

"My father's old solar," said Elia simply. She took a cup and raised it towards Jaime with a wicked smile He rolled his eyes once again, and took the dornish red Myles was giving him. He poured Elia some wine, before pouring some for himself.

"Oh, don't be so shy!" said Ellaria, and poured some more for Elia, to the princess' delight.

"Did you bring it?" asked Nymella, looking at Dagos intently. The lad nodded, and showed her one of the bottles.

"Dragonfire," he said in a low voice, proudly.

"How did you come by this?" asked Ellaria with amazement. She took the bottle from Dagos' hands to examine it more closely.

"My father once came to the aid of a merchant prince," said Myles, as Ellaria passed the bottle to Elia. "Corsairs had come down on the merchant's ship, but my father and his men saved him. As a token of gratitude, the man gifted my father with spices, a tiger skin and a bottle of dragonfire."

Jaime leaned closer to Elia, to take a glimpse of the bottle. The bottle was a beautiful work of glass, its neck shaped as a dragon head with its mouth open. The liquid inside was of an innocent amber color, fluid and clear.

"Just be careful," warned Dagos. "Last time my father drank a bit of it, the guards had to carry him to his bedchamber." That only seemed to encourage Ellaria.

"Empty your wine, and then we start," stated Nymella, taking a gulp of wine.

"Start with what?" asked Jaime, lost.

"Spin the sword," said Elia, her eyes full of mischief. Myles handed her his knife, and Jaime laughed.

"Looks more like 'spin the dagger'," he jested. Elia laughed and gave him a little push. She emptied her cup, and Jaime did the same.

"I'll go first," said Nymella, giving the dagger a little spin.

* * *

A couple of hours later, Jaime felt drunker that he had ever have been in his life. The Manwoody brothers had not lied: even a gulp of Dragonfire made Jaime cough and feel his throat afire. To his bad luck, he was sitting in front of Nymella, which meant that he had ended up drinking more Dragonfire than everyone else. As drunk as he was, he didn't even noticed when Ellaria's dagger was pointing at him.

"Jaime, again!" said Dagos, laughing. He had his arm around Nymella's shoulders, her head resting on his shoulder.

"No," refused Jaime. "I will not drink again!"

"Oh, don't be such a lady," said Ellaria, toying with the dagger. Ellaria's lips curled in a wicked smile. "Jaime, you will kiss Elia," she sentenced, taking a sip of wine. He heard Myles chuckling, and felt himself blushing like a maid, to his dismay.

"Ellaria, please!" he complained, eyeing the bottle of Dragonfire.

"You know the rules!" said Ellaria, pointing her finger at him. "Either do as you are bid, or drink."

_"Oberyn is going to murder me,_ " thought Jaime. He took a deep breath, feeling his head swimming.

"I'm sorry, Elia," he said, turning to face her. "But I can not drink another drop of that stuff." Elia just gave him a little laugh, and closed her eyes. Jaime blinked a couple times, and held Elia's head in his hands.

Elia looked pretty, her cheeks flushed from the drinking, her mouth inviting. Without further thinking, Jaime leaned closer, and touched Elia's lips with his own. He felt Elia's hands pulling him closer, and he could hear the boys whistling and Nymella's laugh, but Elia's mouth was sweet and he did not care for once what the other lads might think. When Elia's lips opened under his, he felt himself in heaven... And then, they broke the kiss.

Elia was as red as a blood orange from the gardens, an awkward smile on her lips.

"Well, you cannot tell me that wasn't fun," teased Ellaria, pushing her braid over her shoulder. "Your turn," she said, handing Jaime the dagger.

Jaime's eyes found Elia's once more, smiling, before he spun the dagger.


	22. Joanna VIII

Kneeling in front of the Father's altar, Joanna mumbled a little prayer. Of late, Joanna found herself more and more at the sept, seeking the gods and their guidance. When it came to her lord husband, Joanna knew that only the gods could stop him. If they even cared enough to help her.

_"_ _Father,"_  prayed Joanna, watching intently the stern bearded face of the Father above.  _"_ _It was below your altar that I found my daughter, when she was afraid. It is to you that I come to ask for strength. Protect my children, protect my daughter from the Targaryens and their madness."_

The Father's face remained harsh, unyielding.  _"_ _Oh, but they pray to you as well,"_  thought Joanna. Since the Conqueror, the Targaryen abandoned their alien Valyrian gods for the Faith. She wondered if Rhaella still prayed, if she asked the Father for justice and protection for herself and her sons.  _If so, the gods had been unmercifully silent. Maybe Tywin had the right of it. Maybe the gods are cruel, and play games with us._

She shook her head, to keep the blasphemous thoughts at bay. She made the sign of the seven, and rose to her feet. Beside the Father, as ever, the Mother's altar stood, dozens of scented candles below her feet. Joanna knelt before the mother, and lit a candle herself.  _The gods might be truly cruel, but even the coldest mother loves and protects her children. Intercede, holy Mother, help me soothe the ache of my heart._

"I truly believe you are making too much of this, dear cousin," Genna had told her a couple of moonturns ago, caressing little Tion's brown hair. "So the child will leave the Rock. What of it? Dozens of children leave to be fostered amongst other families. Cersei won't even be fostered, she will be with her father."

"But Genna, it is King's Landing still."

"No one would ever dare to harm her, Joanna. Not if they risk Tywin's wrath."

"And what of Aerys?" threw Joanna back, unable to stop herself. "What of Aerys, Genna? Did Tywin's presence prevent, in any way, how he treated me, how he shamed me?"

Genna fell quiet, for once. She pushed herself to her feet, and called for the wetnurse. "Take the child to the nursery," she told the young woman, before sending her away. Only when the doors were closed and both of them alone, she approached her again.

"Joanna," she said in a low voice, kneeling before her cousin's chair. She took her hands in her own, and met her eyes. "Dear cousin, I know how you suffered Aerys' abuse... But remember, you never told Tywin."

"How could I? I was afraid how he might react."

"I know, good sister, I'm not saying you did something wrong," she spoke very slowly, as if weighing every single word. "But the prince is not Aerys. The realm loves him dearly, and he is famously chivalrous and well mannered." Joanna said nothing. "If it eases your mind, I will personally talk to Cersei. Warn her about how life is at court, and the risks of keeping secrets from Tywin."

_"_ _I truly hope Genna had the right of it,"_  thought Joanna, smelling the sweet scent of the Mother's candles. _"_ _And I hope Cersei understood the importance of it."_  She turned her head toward where her daughter and Genna were praying at the Maiden's altar. Septa Saranella sat behind them, eyes fixed on the maiden's innocent face as she prayed in a low voice.

Joanna sighed, watching her daughter. She was truly a beauty, so sweet to look upon that the Maiden looked withered. For a short time Joanna had hoped that Rhaegar would reject her as well, but she knew there was little chance of it.  _A few more years, and men will fight and bleed for the honor of her favour._

She saw her daughter and Genna make the sign of the seven, and Cersei stood on her feet to light a candle for the maiden.

_No, please no! Could the gods be so cruel?_

It was so absurd that Joanna did not know if she wanted to weep or laugh. On her daughter's cream skirts, like a blooming rose from the Reach, a stain of blood was clear and bright.

_The gods are truly mad. But what else can I do, gentle Mother?_

She walked quickly next to Genna and Cersei, and gave her cousin a meaningful look.

"Joanna, what is it?" asked Genna, startled.

"Our little lioness is blooming, cousin," said Joanna in a low voice. "Sit, my dear." Cersei looked stunned, but she did as she was bid.

"Are you certain?" asked Genna, and Joanna nodded. She turned to the septa and the woman approached.

"Septa, tell the maids to draw a bath for my daughter."

"In my chambers," added Genna. "It's closer." Joanna nodded in agreement.

"Of course, my lady." Without another word, the woman made the sign of the seven and left them. Just a couple of women were left in the sept, besides them.

"Stand, my love. We will walk behind you." Her daughter jumped to her feet.

"Is it noticeable?" asked Cersei, trying to take a glimpse to the back of her skirts. "Will it ruin my gown?"

"Nothing the washerwomen cannot handle," said Genna, waving her hand with dismissal. "You are not the first maid to ever stain a gown, my dear."

By the time Cersei was in the tub, Genna had already sent for a moonblood cloth.

"We will have to explain her what to expect now," said Genna, sitting in front of Joanna. "Supposedly septa Saranella had already instruct her a little, but I believe it wouldn't hurt if we talk to Cersei. Septas oft tend to have strange ideas from time to time."

Joanna's eyes were fixated on the myrish carpet, lost in her thoughts. She barely heard Genna, but she nodded anyway.

"Joanna..." Genna took her cousin's hand, and gave it a little squeeze. Joanna's eyes found her cousin's. "Do you want me to talk to Cersei?" Joanna took a deep breath, and shook her head.

"I believe it will be better if we both talk to her," said Joanna.

"Are you alright?" added Genna in a low voice. She nodded "Coz... We need to send Tywin a message."

"I know, Genna. I understand." She freed her hand from her cousin's fingers, and turned her face. She heard Genna sigh, and ask the servants for ink and parchment.

Joanna felt a sad guilt taking hold of her belly. She knew Genna only meant well for her and her children, but it hurt Joanna to be reminded that Genna was Tywin's sister in the first place, and her cousin and good sister in second. It made her feel very lonely.

_And about to get lonelier, as soon as Cersei leaves._

As her cousin wrote, her thoughts flew to her own flowering. She was already half in love with Tywin by the time her moonblood appeared, and she remembered how happy she had felt knowing she could marry her cousin and give him children. She must have been herself half a child, four-and-ten perhaps, but the idea of being a wife and a mother excited her all the same. She wondered if Cersei felt that way.

Still, she had not wed Tywin until maybe three years afterwards. The maesters always recommended to wait at least a couple of years before getting a maid with child, lest to risk the mother and babe.  _Look what happened to poor Rhaella._

"Mother," called a voice on the other side of the chamber. Cersei was already dressed, her septa standing besides her. Joanna jumped to her feet and approached Cersei.

"How are you, my love?" she asked, caressing Cersei's golden hair. Cersei just shrugged.

"Cersei, my dear... we wanted to know if you had any doubts regarding your flowering," asked Joanna softly. Cersei's piercing green eyes found her.

"How long will it last?" she asked, more curious than concerned.

"A few days, sometimes as much as half a fortnight," said Genna. "Look at the moon tonight, my dear. With every moonturn, your red flower will bloom."

"It means I can be wed now?"

Joanna nodded. "Your body will keep changing, dear. And men will look at you now as a woman, despite your age," she swallowed, trying to untie the knot in her throat. "It is important that you are never to be left alone with any men. The septa shall keep you company, and if anyone... touches you, or is inappropriate with you, you must immediately tell your father. Anyone, Cersei. No matter his place at court."

"Yes, mother."

"And do not fool around with lads," added Genna, sharply. "No matter how chivalrous and charming they act." To that, Cersei smiled to her aunt.

"I won't, I promise."

"Anyhow, the maesters prefer maids to remain unbedded until a couple of years after their flowering," said Joanna. "It will be a couple of years before you are fit to be wed and bedded." Cersei nodded, and turned to keep asking questions to her aunt Genna.

_Just a few more years. A lot can happen in a couple of years._


End file.
